#it's the same sauce... it's the unexpected depth

[brofightiscancelled]

what is it that drives people to create the most gorgeous and elaborate art of anime muppets. i want to dissect an osomatsu-san fan's brain but that would involve me actually having to smoke cigarrettes (watch the damn anime) and probably develop lung cancer (enjoy it)

same sauce as my little pony:friendship is magic getting popular

[wildechildwrites]

Espresso

Gaz/Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: awkward main character, cliched writing <3

No use of Y/N

Gender neutral reader

Summary: You're a barista at a local coffee shop, and your newest regular is unbelievably, breathtakingly gorgeous

A/N: Not another fucking coffee shop au

AO3: Espresso

There's something comforting about the process of making coffee. Grind, tamp, pull, pour, repeat. it's mindless, muscle memory taking over, the smell of beans nestling into your clothes and hair. You easily lose yourself in it, the quiet hum of orders, the music playing throughout the small corner café you work at weaving in and out of your focus. 

You're cleaning up from the morning rush, refilling sauce bottles and restocking cups when the bell rings. You look up automatically, locking eyes with the most attractive man you've ever seen as he sails through the front door.

He’s boyishly handsome in a way that’s detrimental to your composure, his large dark eyes the same almost black as espresso. His features are strikingly symmetrical, but when he shoots you a careful smile, one side of his mouth tips slightly higher than the other, crooked and charming. Despite your best efforts, your gaze lingers on his full lips longer than what is socially acceptable.

A glance down to his broad shoulders and surprisingly muscular chest, straining against the shirt he wears, indicates that his warm eyes are really the safest place to look if you want to maintain any semblance of dignity through this interaction. 

“Hello,” you call, yanking your wandering thoughts back to heel. Your voice sounds alright to you, definitely shaky but passable. “Welcome in.”

His eyes flick to the menu. “Could I get a small hot honey latte, please?” His voice is smooth, almost silky, rich with an unexpected accent, and your pathetic efforts to pull yourself together are bashed to pieces. You need to be put down, apparently. One handsome man is enough to crush the semblance of sanity you had.

You clear your throat and your head, your voice coming out humiliatingly squeaky. “Name? For the order?” 

“Right,” he smiles, a genuine, friendly smile, and the flash of perfect white teeth makes your heart stutter off beat. “It's Gaz. With a z.”

“I'll have that right out for you, Gaz.” You beam at him, then duck your head, embarrassed at yourself. He’s probably used to it, someone this beautiful must have people falling stupid over them all the time, but you can’t quite shake the humiliation of succumbing so easily.

 You make sure to pull the perfect shot of espresso for him and contemplate writing your number on the side of the cup before immediately shutting yourself down. There’s no way this man is single. You settle for scribbling his name with a little smiley face, then scoff at yourself. A smiley face? He’s a grown man.

When you turn around, Gaz is surveying the pastries with an impressive amount of concentration. You gaze at him helplessly, your eyes dipping back to the muscular planes of his chest and arms. You bite back the instinct to whimper. When you glance back up, you get swept up in the depths of his warm brown eyes, drowning in pools of warm coffee. Is it possible to die of self consciousness? You wordlessly thrust his drink towards him. 

“Thanks, love,” he murmurs, and you wonder if his voice is an octave lower than it was before, or if you’ve just completely lost your mind. His long fingers brush against yours as he grabs the cup, warm and surprisingly calloused, and you feel such swift and complete kinship with Mr. Darcy in the hand scene™ that you look down to make sure you haven’t spontaneously spawned a cravat. 

“Have a nice day,” you muster out faintly, gripping the counter to keep yourself upright. Gaz shoots you another world shattering smile, his eyes lingering on your face, and slips out the door. 

You allow yourself a ten minute break to have a full fledged meltdown about it, babbling on the phone to your best friend incomprehensibly. “He was— And I just— Oh god his biceps—” 

She’s got the audacity to laugh at your agony and then ruin your day by telling you she’s talking to her ex again. You lecture her half-heartedly, too distracted by the memory of a dreamy pair of brown eyes to be truly effective. 

You spend every one of your shifts the next few days hoping Gaz will come back. Every time the front bell chimes you get your hopes up, only to be disappointed again and again. It’s either a testament to the indomitable human spirit or the final nail in the coffin of evidence that you’re a sad, pathetic loser. Another long day drips by like molasses, and you wonder if it’s reasonable to say a hot man ruined your life. Gaz isn't coming back, he was probably just in town visiting and now he's gone forever. Or he hated the latte you made him. Or you fully hallucinated him. All valid options.

The bells above the door tinkle and you immediately accept your place as the universe’s favorite, your dramatic spiral melting away like spring snow. Your heart does a backflip, a ridiculous smile settling on your face.

“You’re back!” You cry, then immediately realize how completely insane that sounds, but Gaz just looks pleased, his dark eyes sparkling, smiling just as brightly at you. It’s better than you remembered it being, perfectly crooked and sweet enough to be cavity inducing. All the borderline obsessive yearning you've done is immediately reaffirmed. You are so fucked. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, voice soft like he means it, and your knees get a little wobbly. “Couldn’t go through life without knowing the name of the person who made me the best latte I’ve ever had.” He leans against the counter, far too close to you for you to come with a comprehensible response, so you just smile at him like an idiot. He smells incredible, like one of those ridiculously described characters in a romance novel. No one smells like rain and leather and a warm day at the park when you were six. 

Except, apparently, this unbelievably handsome man leaning into your space, looking down at you with warm doe eyes, framed by unfairly long eyelashes. You hope you're in good enough shape for your heart not to give out with how it's palpitating.

You realize you’ve been staring at him with a stupid smile on your face for a beat to long and stutter out your name like it’s the first time you’ve ever said it out loud, mentally kicking yourself. He repeats it softly, his voice just a note deeper, a touch breathy, and you come to the conclusion he might actually be trying to kill you on purpose.

“Do you want me to make you another latte?” You ask, already turning around, trying to escape the siren spell the brunt of his attention has cast over you. He hums an affirmation, and you manage not to spill the milk this time, anticipating your hands shaking.

He's definitely not flirting with you. If you write your number on his cup and he never texts you, you’ll have to leave society and live in a cave somewhere. You draw a heart next to his name and immediately want to cross it out, but that seems somehow worse, so you take a grounding breath and turn around.

Gaz is looking down at the little cakes in the display case, a quirked sort of smile on his face. “Are these honey flavored?” 

Warmth rushes to your face. “Yeah, made them fresh this morning,” you try to shrug. Honey flavored for no particular reason, of course. Everything you’d made lately had been. No worries, handsome stranger. You’ve just been the focus of all the lame escapist daydreams I use to cope with life. Why are you running?

“You make them yourself?” He asks, astonishment clear in his voice. “They look delicious.” 

You smile shyly, ducking your head, soaking up the praise. If you could squeal and do a little dance without scaring Gaz, you probably would. “They’re alright.” 

“Will you split one with me?” He grabs his coffee out of your hands, warm fingers on your own, the full force of those brown eyes focused on you. You feel yourself slipping into their hypnotic pull.

“What?” If you wake up right now you’re going to be so mad.

Gaz bites his full bottom lip the way you’d like to, looking suddenly bashful, and your brain abandons you. “If you’re busy that’s alright but maybe–”

“I’d love to!” You squeak, and are instantly rewarded with a wide smile. He has dimples. How did you not notice the dimples until now? You are definitely so fucked. 

You make yourself a drink to try and get your palms to stop sweating, discreetly wiping your palms on your black apron as you sit an appropriate distance away from Gaz on one of the more comfortable couches. It's a disgusting plaid patterned relic of the 80s, the cushions sunken by years of usage, perfect for afternoon naps. He scoots closer to you, enveloping you in the smell of his cologne, balancing the plate on his knee. You’re treated with a perfect view of the way his extremely muscular thighs strain against the material of his pants, and have to mentally coax yourself to keep breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I need to be sent to a nunnery.

Gaz takes a bite of the cake and lets out a low hum of satisfaction, his eyes sliding closed in a blissful expression that has heat blooming low in your stomach. Your traitorous eyes flit back to his spread thighs.

“I was right,” he says, smiling softly, voice honey-sweet, blissfully unaware of his affect on you. “This is delicious.” 

“Thank you,” you say, cringing at how shaky your voice is. You clear your throat, trying to act normal. What do normal people talk about? “Uh, what do you do? For work?” 

His shrug is charmingly self deprecating and highlights just how deliciously broad his shoulders are. “Military. Special forces.” 

Any social commentary you have on the military is pushed down as he scoops up another forkful of cake, offering it to you. “Have a bite.” He coaxes. 

Your face is on fire but you obediently open your mouth, awkwardly letting him feed you. “Good,” he purrs, his eyes on your lips, and you forget how to swallow, the cake sticking to the roof of your mouth as your body flushes with inappropriate heat. You attempt to break the spell, grabbing your drink and taking a loud sip. 

“You've got some,” Gaz gestures to your face, and you self consciously swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling unbelievably childish. He flashes those dimples at you. “Do you mind if I?

Faster than you can react, Gaz's warm fingers are on your face, gently tipping your chin up, carefully brushing crumbs from the side of your mouth, leaning closer, eyes on your mouth. You’re stuck like this, mouth parted in an aborted attempt to object, frozen in his grasp.

You realize you haven't taken a breath in the last minute and inhale raggedly as he pulls his hand away from your face. The bell above the door jingles, one of your regulars walking in with a cheerful smile. You're not sure if you're grateful or borderline homicidal at the interruption.

“Be with you in a second Jan!” You call out. If you were braver you'd ask Gaz to stick around. “I should get back to it,” Coward. You rise with no small effort, wrenching yourself free of his magnetic pull.

“Thanks for taking the time,” Gaz’s voice is light, but his dark eyes are intense and focused. He stands, and you're subject to the unfortunate reminder that he’s tall, the force of his gaze magnified by how he towers over you. 

“Of course,” You respond, aiming for casual and missing it by about a mile; “Anytime.”

He smiles, crooked and perfect. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen, and you smile before you can stop yourself. “Yeah. Yes.” Eloquent response.

“See you tomorrow then.” Gaz flashes his dimples, setting off another swarm of butterflies in your stomach. 

“Kay.” Eloquent again. You know you're grinning like a moron, but you can't make yourself stop. He's coming back, coming back for you.

“Who was that handsome man?” Jan asks in a stage whisper once you get behind the counter. “My god, the accent? He seems quite taken with you.” 

“Don't say that!” You bury your face in your hands. You cannot be out here projecting your delusions on this poor man. He just likes the way you make coffee. “He's just being nice.” You mumble from behind your fingers. You can feel Jan's eye roll.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” 

Gaz is back and he brought a friend. A slightly menacing looking friend, dressed in all black, sporting a mohawk, even taller than Gaz is, and built like a brick shit house. He looks around the shop, his face carefully blank, taking in the plants growing on every surface, the mismatched furniture filling the room. Any intimidation you feel is immediately neutralized when his eyes land on you and crinkle at the corners, his mouth splitting into a beaming grin, his loud voice bouncing off the walls of the shop.

“Nice tae make yer acquaintance a’m Johnny! Yae must be who Gaz haes bin gantin fir—” Gaz shoves his elbow into the Scotsman’s ribs and you unsuccessfully stifle a snort.

“Nice to meet you Johnny,” you smile at him warmly. “Can't say I really understood half of what you said so I hope it wasn't anything bad.” 

“All good things,” Gaz cuts in, a touch too loudly, and Johnny snickers. Gaz’s elbow shoots out lightning fast, but Johnny seems to anticipate it, stepping out of range with another laugh. 

You smile at Gaz, glad you’re not the only one on the back foot for once. “The usual?” 

“Yes please, love.” He replies, and heat rushes to your face at the term of endearment. So much for not being on the back foot.

It’s easier to ground yourself with someone else in the shop to focus on. “Anything for you Johnny?”

“Cannae get a hot latte with oot milk?”

You pinch your lips together to suppress a smile and look Johnny dead in the eyes, serious as a heart attack. “Can’t make a latte without milk, sorry.” 

Gaz snorts a laugh, and you let yourself grin at your own dumb joke. Johnny smiles, a mischievous look in his eyes, then turns to Gaz. “Caen tell why ya’ like this… place.”

You hear rather than see Gaz smack his friend as you turn back to make their drinks. “Got anything fun planned for today?” You ask over your shoulder.

“Not much, might get something to eat.” Gaz pauses awkwardly. “Do you eat?” 

Johnny’s laugh is loud, and you turn as he hunches over with the force of it, massive shoulders shaking. 

“Been known to, yeah,” you say with a smile. Gaz looks like he wants the ground to open up beneath him. On anyone else, it’d be adorable, but it's Gaz, so he kind of looks like a model trying out a new pout. Life is so unfair. “Do you want some recommendations?” 

Those brown eyes are steadfastly glued to the floor. “Yeah,” He finally mumbles lamely, looking up at you through his eyelashes. Johnny’s still wheezing but has regained some composure, his eyes sparkling as he claps a large hand on Gaz’s shoulder.

“There’s a few brunch places nearby, if you’re in the mood for that.” You set their drinks on their counter, trying to think of other spots. “If you like Thai, there’s a place right down the road that’s really good, and the owner’s a sweetheart.” 

“Gaz loves Thai food, right Gaz?” Johnny says, taking a loud sip of his latte and then cringing when it scalds his tongue. You suppress a snort, already borderline inappropriately fond of the Scotsman. You hope he starts coming in regularly too. 

Gaz makes no response, his gaze fixed on you, doe eyed and unfairly handsome. You stare at him. He stares at you. Your eyes dart down to watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows, then back up to his eyes, hyper aware of the seconds ticking by. Maybe you’ve got something on your face? Your eyes flick to Johnny, who's inexplicably grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“Well we’ve got a busy day,” Gaz blurts, quickly turning to his friend. “Best be going.” 

“But what aboot—” Johnny starts, but Gaz grabs his arm, practically dragging the other man away from the counter. You’re left standing there, completely bewildered.

“Good to see you!” Gaz throws over his shoulder, his voice a touch too loud again. The bell clangs with finality as the door slams shut behind them. 

“Bye,” you say to the empty shop.

You fiddle with the key in the lock, quietly cursing. It always sticks, and every day you vow to bring something to grease it with, and everyday you forget. When you finally get it to cooperate, you let out a loud sigh, turning around to walk to your car. Someone’s leaning against it, and you freeze momentarily, your heart dropping before you recognize the figure. 

Gaz makes your shitty beater look like a prop in a photoshoot, lounging against it, the light of the setting sun haloing him, making his skin glow and highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones. He lifts his hand in a friendly wave, and you gawk at the way his arm muscle flexes with the casual motion. 

“Hey,” he calls, all signs of his previous awkwardness gone. “How was the rest of your shift?”

“It was good,” you say, reflexively glancing around. “Did Johnny ditch you?” 

“No, I ditched him,” he rubs the back of his neck, the bashfulness creeping back in. “Brought him for back up.” 

“What did you need back up for?” The confusion must be evident on your face, because Gaz’s mouth quirks to the side, one of his dimples popping. 

“Had to have someone there to blubber to in case you told me to fuck off,” you watch him set his shoulders back with a deliberate nonchalance. “Would you want to go out sometime?” 

You can hear your blood rushing in your ears, and quickly unlock your knees so you don’t pass out. “You thought you might need backup?” You say faintly. 

He shrugs, trying and failing to look casual. “Wasn’t sure you’d say yes.” 

You snort, and then immediately cover your mouth in embarrassment when he looks wounded. “I’m so sorry, I’m not laughing at you I just— I thought I’d been painfully obvious. I get all stupid and flustered everytime you speak to me.”

“I fluster you?” Gaz has the audacity to look shocked, and you wonder if it’d be a crime to give someone so beautiful shaking baby syndrome.

“Do they not have mirrors where you’re from?” You throw back, your voice sour. He barks a laugh and looks surprised at himself. 

The cocky smirk that settles on his face is new, and you have the good sense to be terrified by what it might mean, his gaze going molten as he takes a careful step towards you, closing the gap. You get a whiff of his cologne, your knees wobbly as he glances down at your lips, his own parting subconsciously. 

“Is this flustering you?” Gaz murmurs, his voice deliciously low. 

“Um…” you say articulately, and he grins triumphantly, melting back against your car, generously giving you space to breathe. 

“So you will go out with me?” He coaxes, cocking his head to the side.

You blink up at him, trying to clear the cotton balls out from in between your ears. “Did I not say yes? Yes. Please, yes.”

Gaz smiles, sweet and blinding, and you want to bottle it up in a jar and keep it forever. “Thai okay?”

[cheryeos]

WELCOME TO KYE’S BURGERS 🍔

“Where the buns are soft, the patties are thick, and things always get messy.”

whether you’re here for a quick snack or a full-course indulgence, we’ve got what you need to satisfy those cravings. this isn’t your average burger joint, we serve up drabbles, one-shots, and fics with a side of heat. expect some spice, unexpected flavors, and a whole lot of indulgence. 🔥

⏰ open 24/7 for all your cravings, because you never know when you’ll need something extra juicy. no judgment here, just messy, sinful goodness, served hot and fresh.

est. march 2025

🍔 MAIN COURSE

(Who’s on the Grill? — WHO I WRITE FOR)

🥬 All orders are made fresh, extra juicy, and seasoned to perfection. No dry, overcooked shit here.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER — Signature Dish 🧀

A balanced bite: soft, sweet, but packs just the right amount of heat. starts off smooth, melts on your tongue, then hits you with a slow burn that lingers. best enjoyed when you’re craving something that keeps you coming back for more.

ENHYPEN — The Chef’s Surprise 🍅

no two bites are the same, but that’s the fun of it. one moment, it’s rich and buttery, the next, it’s bold and dripping. unexpected, satisfying, and always leaving you wondering what’s next.

STRAY KIDS — The House Favourite 🍟

heavy on the seasoning, no shortcuts, no half-measures. hits hard from the first bite, gets messier the deeper you go, and by the end, you won’t care about the grease on your hands. bold flavors, zero regrets.

🥤 DRINKS & SIDES

(Extras & Specials — MY TAGS)

🍟 Crispy, messy, and the perfect complement to your main. These sides will keep you satisfied and coming back for more.

🍟 # Quick Bites

short drabbles or bite-sized pieces to satisfy those quick cravings. perfect for when you want something light and fun, but still full of flavor.

🍔 # Double Patty

longer, more detailed one-shots or multi-chapter fics. rich, layered, and packed with depth, these will keep you coming back for seconds.

🌶️ # Secret Sauce

exclusive content that’s a little extra, special requests, prompts, or experimental writing. only for the daring and the curious. (and only if the chef feels like it).

🥤 # Refills

ongoing series and fresh updates. if you’re hooked on something, come back for more. these are served regularly to keep you satisfied.

© cheryeos 2025, pls don’t steal, edit / translate, or repost my works on other platforms without asking. thank you cuties :3

[the-most-humble-blog]

🔥 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝘾𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙁𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡

“Celebrate the taste of opportunity MF's!” 🎈🎉🥳

🍖 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙖 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙎𝙏! 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙘𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣? 🍖

Well, let’s just say there’s been a surplus of fresh protein recently! A mysterious and totally coincidental fire cleared out a few underhive sectors—and wouldn’t you know it, prime cuts of meat are now available for next to nothing! (Don’t ask too many questions, just eat.)

"𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮!"

🐷 𝙁𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙨 🐷

Only for a limited time! (Or as long as the "supply" lasts!)

1. The "Mysterious Origins" Roast – 15 Throne Gelt

🔥 Slow-cooked over the same flames that birthed it! This tender, juicy meat is pulled straight from the still-smoldering ruins of Sector 13. The secret? Low heat, high body count.

2. Chef’s Choice Mystery Sausage – 8 Throne Gelt

🌭 “You’ve never had sausage like this before!” Stuffed with meat freshly "harvested" from the festival’s unexpected supply boom! Smooth, fatty, and with just a hint of familiarity. Don’t think too hard about it!

3. Arson-Roasted Ribs – 12 Throne Gelt

🍖 Our ribs practically fell off the bone on their own! (Screaming may have been involved!) Smoky, tender, and conveniently sourced from the sector fire’s “cleanup efforts.”

4. Deep-Fried Long Pork Strips – 10 Throne Gelt

🥓 A crispy, golden-brown delight dredged in industrial fryer oil and seasoned with a blend of proprietary hive spices. Popular among gangers and those who don’t ask too many questions.

5. Hive-Marrow Burgers – 9 Throne Gelt

🍔 Meat so fresh, you can almost hear it beg! Ground into thick patties and topped with drippings of our special "charcoal-black" marrow sauce. Served on burnt-toast brioche, in honor of the recent festival “events.”

6. Gut-Stuffed Offal Stew – 7 Throne Gelt

🍲 A hearty mix of boiled innards, intestines, and livers all torn from the freshest sources. Some pieces may contain tattoo ink or remnants of cybernetic implants (a fun little reminder of where they came from!).

7. The "Humble Citizen" Charcuterie Board – 18 Throne Gelt

🧀 A selection of premium meats from those who never thought they'd be served! Includes:

✔ Hollow-Faced Prosciutto – Aged to perfection in the depths of the hive.

✔ Scavver Salami – Coarse, chunky, and full of "character."

✔ Pickled Eyes & Fingers – A delicacy best eaten before they twitch.

✔ Toothpick Breadsticks – Garnished with teeth for extra crunch!

8. The "No Witnesses" Meat Pie – 10 Throne Gelt

🥧 Flaky crust filled with juicy, perfectly diced mystery meat. The best part? Every pie is handcrafted using freshly disappeared hive citizens! Some say the flavor changes based on their last emotions.

9. Servitor Shoulder Chops – 14 Throne Gelt

💀 Perfectly marbled with a slight hint of cybernetic residue! Slow-roasted and served with a side of brain-stim supplement gravy. (Eat fast, sometimes they still twitch!)

10. "Did They Have a Name?" T-Bone Steak – 17 Throne Gelt

🥩 A thick, juicy cut straight from the nameless masses who "volunteered" for this event! Well-seasoned, well-cooked, and comes with a side of denial.

🐖 BONUS: Emperor’s Mercy BBQ Platter 🐖

🚨 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙍𝙐𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 🚨 – 35 Throne Gelt

🍖 A massive platter of EVERY meat dish on the menu for the hungriest and most morally bankrupt guests.

💀 Comes with a free servitor bib that reads: "Don’t Ask, Just Chew."

🐽 𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟: "𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗗 & 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗" 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗦! 🐽

🔥 Select meats come pre-blackened from the fire, adding a deep, smoky richness!

🔥 All flame-kissed meats are half off! (Just like Sector 13's population!)

🔥 𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟!

👨‍🍳 "𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙁" 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙇!

💀 One lucky diner will get to "meet" the meat's original owner!* (If there's enough of them left!)

⚠ 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧 ⚠

All sales final. Meat is sourced from "varied" donors.

Health disclaimers: Side effects include nightmares, stomach cramps, and existential horror.

Consuming more than one meal per visit may result in recognizing someone from your old hab-block.

Please do not ask where the meat came from. You don’t want to know. We don’t want to tell you.

🔥 “𝘿𝙊𝙉’𝙏 𝙇𝙀𝙏 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙁𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙃 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 𝙒𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀!” 🔥

🐷 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙁𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙃 𝙈𝙊𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙁𝙐𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝘿𝘼𝙔!

(𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.) 🍽

🔥 TAG & SHARE WITH A FRIEND—YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THEY’LL BE ON THE MENU NEXT! 🔥

[smgsecretsanta]

A gift from @taillesscomet to @jugger-heads!!!

Text under the cut

Fluffy Christmas

Jessica didn't know whether to cry or laugh at this situation. She, Josh and Mike were the only ones from their team who were supposed to celebrate the New Year alone, but the girl couldn't let that happen. Her parents went to visit relatives, her older brother Hank went to celebrate with his girlfriend, and her younger brother Jacob with friends. The Washington family stopped celebrating Christmas after Hannah and Beth disappeared (Jess burst into tears when she found out about it, she was very ashamed and she told Mike about it, they spent the whole evening hugging and crying). The former president managed to get sick, and Damian and Luther had a holiday shift, so despite his illness, he was also invited. 

Jess broke up with Mike after the incident in February and initially stopped all communication with him. The same thing happened to Josh after his rescue. But after a while, the girl went to a therapist and gradually began to return to society, her friends helped her with these, and especially Mike, but what surprised her more was Josh, who helped her on an equal footing with Munro. This led to the formation of their unexpected friendly trio. And so to this situation.

The girl looked at Josh, and Washington was just looking at her too. The guy was as surprised as she was and seemed to be on the verge too. Josh looked at Mike, and Mike was the first to break the silence. Michael fell back laughing, hugging his stomach until a sore throat stopped his laughter with a coughing fit. Jess and Josh joined him next, the first one still started crying, but they were happy. The reason for the laughter was a simple exchange of gifts, now there were four cages and two carriers in front of the teenagers. There were two rats in one of the cages-a gift for Josh from Jess, beautiful rats that looked something like Beth and Hannah, and they were named after them. By chance, in response to this, Josh gives the girl a hamster, Mr. Potato, and Mike gives a black and white guinea pig, Lila. And before that, Mike received from Jess a black and white rabbit, which Riley named Lala. The situation was not taken advantage of by the younger Munro, who decided to give his friends a sphinx kitten and a Husky puppy. Washington got the kitten with the ironic name Fluff, and Jerry's puppy fell into Jessica's hands.

"Jesus hot sauce Christmas cake, this is fucking unbelievable!" Mike shouted, coughing, trying to calm the attack. "You two conspired, otherwise, judging by Lily and Lala, you chose together!"

"No!" protested Jess, wiping away tears, the girl somehow took a breath and said: "I thought you and Josh were lonely, you both live alone, besides Chris said that you, Josh, love rats. And Sam said about you that you love all animals!" The girl only had enough for that, and then she laughed again.

"Cochise. Betrayed. Me! I'm not alone!" Josh speaks with pauses, and after Mike falls back, tears of laughter appear in his eyes and from how these gifts touched him to the depths of his soul. Especially the two rats with the names of his dead sisters.

"Hey, just because I live alone doesn't mean I'm lonely!" Mike was able to say calmly, calming down after a long cough. Exhaling, the guy smiled at his friends. To which they could not help but respond with a smile. Straightening his hair, he continued: "I originally planned to donate animals. Ashley advised me to give you a cat, because you are somewhat similar to these animals, and Emily told the truth about you, Miss Riley, she told me that you have wanted a puppy since childhood."

"I didn't plan on it. Matt offered to give Mike some kind of rodent, I thought it was funny, and already there I saw a hamster for Jess."

There was silence again. Until there was a puppy barking, followed by a meow. The trio knew what they were going to do in the near future.

***

It was three o'clock in the morning when they went to bed. It was decided to sleep all together because of this, Josh settled in the middle, and Mike and Jess lay down around him, Fluff and Jerry curled up in one common ball at the feet. What was happening now seemed amazing to Josh, no, they had arranged such overnight stays before, but now it seemed like something had changed. 

"Share it," Jess's voice distracted him from his thoughts. The guy didn't want to upset her and pulled a smile because of this, saying:

"I haven't celebrated Christmas for a long time, I forgot how exhausting it is."

The girl sighed, but smiled a little, shaking her head negatively. He had forgotten how perceptive she had become after the incident, although maybe she had been like that before.

"I didn't think that after..." Joshua didn't know what to call what happened, the truth hurt his heart. "...After I lost the status of an older brother, I thought that I would no longer celebrate holidays," he smiled bitterly.

Jessica didn't know what to say to that, so she laced her fingers with his, holding his hand tightly and not looking away. Mike, who seemed to be asleep before, suddenly but slowly turned to them, looked at both of them, and then put his palm on top of their hands. A hand where two fingers were missing. And then he said confidently:

"You cannot lose this status, if you love them and they love you, then you will always be an older brother. And I'm sure they love you even there," Mike smiled and added, "Besides, you now have three younger brothers and four sisters. Well, or at least two younger "relatives"."

"Do you understand, big brother?" Riley joined in with a grin.

Josh felt like he was going to cry. These words struck him to the depths of his soul, warming him in the chest area. And then he realized that something had let go, that Josh couldn't forgive himself for the last two years, just left after a few words.

"Well, well... Then you're in trouble, little ones!" Washington said laughing, hugging those shoulders and shaking them, amid general laughter. While...

Sneeze

"Thank you very much, Michael!"

***

Squeak

“what?..." Jessica raised her head without opening her eyes. Somehow gathering herself, she opened her eyes a little, not fully waking up, her sleepy mind could only realize the time "5 a.m... Josh, turn off your alarm clock." Closing her eyes, the girl began to push Josh.

"Where is he?..." the guy mumbled without waking up, followed by Mike's dissatisfied mumbling.

"Jooosh, the alarm has been turned off!..." Jess did not calm down and began to push harder until it began to reach Mike. He sat down on it, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Oh...Fuck nuggets! It's a sea rabbit!"

[sutterbuttes]

The Benefits of Chocolate Balsamic Vinegar

Chocolate balsamic vinegar might sound like a fancy drizzle for dessert, but it’s more than just a gourmet novelty. This rich, tangy-sweet condiment is a fusion of aged balsamic vinegar and natural chocolate flavor, offering surprising health perks and culinary versatility. Whether you’re a foodie or a health-conscious shopper, you will get amazing health benefits of chocolate balsamic vinegar.

 A Flavor Bomb without the Guilt

Craving something sweet and decadent? Chocolate balsamic delivers that cocoa kick with none of the sugar crash. Unlike syrups and chocolate sauces loaded with sugar and preservatives, chocolate balsamic vinegar is naturally low in calories. It satisfies sweet cravings in a healthier way—making it perfect for anyone watching their waistline without sacrificing taste.

Rich in Antioxidants

Balsamic vinegar is already known for its antioxidant content, and the addition of chocolate takes that to the next level. Cocoa is packed with flavonoids—plant compounds known for fighting inflammation, lowering blood pressure, and boosting heart health. Combined, chocolate and balsamic create a powerhouse that helps combat oxidative stress and support overall well-being.

A Digestive Aid in Disguise

Traditional balsamic vinegar supports healthy digestion by stimulating stomach enzymes. Chocolate balsamic vinegar brings the same benefit with a bonus: it tastes like a treat while helping your gut. A spoonful before a meal may improve digestion, reduce bloating, and even help stabilize blood sugar levels. It’s a smart (and tasty) addition to your wellness routine.

 A Culinary Game-Changer

Chocolate balsamic vinegar isn’t just for desserts. Its depth of flavor makes it a secret weapon in both sweet and savory dishes. Drizzle it over grilled meats for a rich glaze, swirl it into sauces, or use it to marinate berries. It shines over roasted vegetables, adds intrigue to vinaigrettes, and even makes an unexpected topping for vanilla ice cream.

Mix a tablespoon with olive oil and a pinch of sea salt for a mind-blowing bread dip.

Chocolate has long been linked to improved mood thanks to compounds like theobromine and phenylethylamine. While chocolate balsamic contains these in lower amounts than pure chocolate, it still brings that comforting, feel-good factor. Pair it with a calming herbal tea or add it to a fruit salad for a natural mental lift.

Summary: Chocolate balsamic vinegar is more than a trendy ingredient. It’s a flavorful, functional, and flexible addition to your pantry that supports health while exciting the palate. Whether you're crafting a gourmet meal or simply elevating your snack game, this unique fusion delivers on all fronts.

[piastmeatsprovisions]

Stuffed Cabbage Rolls: The Soul-Warming Meal You Didn’t Know You Needed

In a world of fast food and flavorless meals, few dishes bring the comfort and depth of a traditional stuffed cabbage roll. Packed with heritage, love, and flavor, it’s the kind of food that makes you slow down, take a deep breath, and truly enjoy every bite.

Why Stuffed Cabbage Is a Must-Try Classic

Originating in Eastern Europe and beloved in Polish cuisine, Gołąbki — or stuffed cabbage — is a dish that speaks volumes about tradition and heart. Imagine perfectly blanched cabbage leaves gently folded around a savory blend of ground pork, rice, onion, and spices. Add a rich tomato sauce and slow cooking, and you've got a dish that feels like a warm hug.

It’s comfort food that transcends generations, and it’s no wonder why people keep coming back for more.

Piast’s Stuffed Cabbage – Made with Care, Ready to Enjoy

Don’t have time to roll and cook for hours? You don’t have to. Thanks to Piast’s Stuffed Cabbage, you can enjoy this homemade delicacy without ever turning on the stove.

Each cabbage roll is hand-rolled with high-quality pork and rice, wrapped in tender cabbage, and simmered slowly in a seasoned tomato sauce. It’s the same quality and taste you’d get at a family table in Kraków — no shortcuts, just tradition.

Perfect for Any Occasion

Whether you’re feeding a crowd or just need a satisfying solo meal, stuffed cabbage hits the mark. Serve it with mashed potatoes, pierogi, or Piast Kielbasa for a complete and comforting Polish feast.

It also freezes well, making it a fantastic choice for weekly meal planning or unexpected guests.

From Piast’s Kitchen to Your Table

Piast’s mission has always been to preserve the integrity of Polish cuisine while making it accessible to today’s busy lifestyles. Their stuffed cabbage rolls are proof of that — authentic, delicious, and made with the same care your babcia would insist on.

Order Now – Taste the Tradition

Ready to indulge in old-world flavor without the old-world effort? Click here to order Piast’s Stuffed Cabbage and bring home the comfort of Poland’s most beloved dish. Just heat, serve, and savor — no rolling required.

[andrewdawson18]

5 Delicious Recipes Using Coffee Creamer

Coffee creamer is often associated with just one thing—your morning cup of coffee. But this flavorful, creamy addition has more potential than just sweetening your brew. Whether it’s dairy or non-dairy, flavored or plain, coffee creamer can be a secret ingredient in many recipes, lending richness, sweetness, and unique taste twists. Here are five delicious and creative ways to use coffee creamer beyond your coffee mug.

1. Creamy Pancakes or Waffles  

Give your breakfast a flavorful boost by substituting coffee creamer for milk in your pancake or waffle batter. A vanilla, caramel, or hazelnut-flavored creamer adds a hint of sweetness and depth that makes homemade breakfasts extra special. Use the same measurement as you would for milk, mix in with your dry ingredients, and enjoy fluffy, flavorful pancakes that don’t even need syrup—though no one’s stopping you.

2. Rich and Easy French Toast  

French toast is a brunch classic, and coffee creamer can elevate it to dessert-level decadence. Replace milk in the egg mixture with flavored creamer. A cinnamon or vanilla-based creamer works especially well. Simply whisk together eggs, creamer, and a touch of nutmeg or cinnamon, dip in your bread slices, and cook until golden brown. The result is a custardy, aromatic breakfast that tastes gourmet.

3. Homemade Ice Cream or Milkshakes  

No ice cream maker? No problem. Coffee creamer can help you make no-churn ice cream right at home. Mix sweetened condensed milk with flavored coffee creamer and whipped cream, pour into a container, and freeze until firm. The flavor combinations are nearly endless, depending on the type of creamer you use.

Alternatively, add a splash of creamer to your favorite milkshake recipe. It thickens the texture and intensifies the taste, especially if you're using flavors like chocolate, peppermint, or mocha.

4. Creamy Soups and Sauces  

While coffee creamer is often used for sweet recipes, unsweetened or lightly flavored creamers can also work in savory dishes. Try adding a bit of plain or lightly flavored non-dairy creamer to your creamy soups—like tomato bisque, potato leek, or mushroom. It adds smoothness without the heaviness of cream or butter.

In pasta sauces, a dash of creamer can provide a velvety consistency. Think of a quick garlic cream sauce or a light Alfredo twist using just a bit of coffee creamer in place of milk or heavy cream.

5. Baked Desserts Like Cakes or Muffins  

Substitute coffee creamer for milk or liquid in cake, muffin, or cupcake recipes to infuse them with subtle flavors. For example, use caramel creamer in apple muffins, or vanilla creamer in a simple pound cake. It enhances moisture and adds complexity to the flavor without requiring extra sugar or extracts.

Final Thoughts  

Coffee creamer is far more versatile than most people think. From breakfast to dessert—and even savory dinners—it can enhance flavor and texture in unexpected ways. The next time you reach for that bottle of creamer, consider using it as a secret ingredient in the kitchen. You might just discover a new family favorite.

[noellewaldron]

Karma Concord: Familiar Flavors, Familiar Faces

Nestled between the traditional colonial buildings of Thoreau Street in Concord, Massachusetts lies something different, Karma Asian Fusion Restaurant.  Karma is the kind of restaurant that manages to strike a rare balance between creativity and comfort. With its modern Asian fusion menu, dimly lit dining room, and welcoming staff, Karma has become a staple in my weekly routine. Every Sunday night, my hometown friends and I find ourselves back at the same spot, greeted by familiar faces and consistently excellent food.

The atmosphere at Karma is inviting from the moment you walk in. The lighting is soft and moody, creating a cozy environment that encourages conversation. Music plays in the background, just loud enough to set the tone but never competing with the dining experience. The space feels intentionally designed to be both elegant and approachable, which makes it perfect for a regular night out or a casual celebration. There is a mix of chair, booth, and barstool seating. My go-to? The seats at the bar.

One of the strongest elements of Karma’s appeal is its menu. The fusion and variety of Asian food manages to be both reliable and inventive, offering classic staples and specialty items that stand out. The spicy tuna roll, for example, is a regular order for me. It may be a common sushi item, but Karma prepares it with consistent quality. The tuna is fresh, the rice is well-seasoned, and the balance of spice and texture makes it a solid choice every time. The ratio between fish and rice is perfect, and you get a good amount of meat to justify the $12 price tag.

More distinctive is the $25 lemon basil maki roll, a specialty item that highlights the restaurant’s creative approach to flavor. This roll features a thin slice of lemon, rind included, on top of each piece, delivering a bright, citrusy note that cuts through the richness of the fish. It is unexpected but well-executed, and the unique flavor combination makes it worth returning to. 

To start the meal, I often order a bowl of miso soup. Karma’s version is simple, comforting, and well-made. The broth has depth without being overly salty, and the tofu, seaweed, and scallions are always fresh. It’s a reliable beginning to the meal and sets a calming tone before the main courses arrive.

One dish that stands out among all the others is the $19 basil chow foon. This is something I only ever order at Karma, not because it cannot be found elsewhere, but because nowhere else does it quite the same. The wide rice noodles are stir-fried with vegetables and coated in a savory sauce that is rich without being heavy. The addition of fresh basil adds an herbal brightness that elevates the entire dish. It is flavorful, satisfying, and something I look forward to all week.

What elevates the experience even further is the sense of familiarity and community that comes with being a regular. My friends and I have become close with two of the bartenders, Tai and John, whose presence adds a personal element to each visit. Over time, our Sunday dinners have become a ritual, not just because of the food, but because of the connections we have built with the people who work there. It is rare to find a restaurant where the staff remembers your name and your usual order, and where the atmosphere feels just as comforting as the dishes themselves.

Karma has managed to create more than just a good dining experience. It has become a reliable part of our weekly lives, offering a space to slow down, eat well, and reconnect with friends. For anyone in or around Concord looking for a spot with high-quality food, a relaxed atmosphere, and a welcoming staff, Karma is more than worth a visit. Whether you're looking to try something new, or want to indulge in a familiar favorite, Karma is a place that delivers, week after week.

[westshorepizza1]

The Pizza Personality Test: Discover Which Chain Best Fits Your Taste Buds

From deep dish to thin crust, tangy sauces to cheesy explosions, your pizza preferences say a lot about your personality. Theare are many pizza chain and pizza restaurant, let’s find out which pizza chain best matches your vibe!

Domino’s: The Adventurer Personality: You love variety and aren’t afraid to try new things. From stuffed cheesy bread to custom crust flavors, you enjoy experimenting with toppings and sauces. Signature choice: The ExtravaganZZa or a custom pizza with garlic crust. Why it fits: Domino’s is fast, flexible, and adventurous, just like you.

Pizza Hut: The Comfort Seeker Personality: You value tradition with a twist. A gooey, cheesy pizza with a side of wings or breadsticks feels like home to you. Signature choice: The Stuffed Crust or a classic Meat Lover’s Pizza. Why it fits: Pizza Hut’s rich flavors and indulgent crust options satisfy your craving for comfort.

Papa John’s: The Ingredient Enthusiast Personality: You’re all about quality and freshness. You appreciate the balance between bold flavors and clean, simple ingredients. Signature choice: The BBQ Chicken Bacon or a Pepperoni with extra garlic dipping sauce. Why it fits: Papa John’s slogan, “Better Ingredients, Better Pizza,” mirrors your no-compromise approach to food.

Little Caesars: The Budget-Friendly Life of the Party Personality: You’re fun, spontaneous, and know how to keep things affordable without sacrificing taste. You’re the one who brings the pizza to the party. Signature choice: Hot-N-Ready Pepperoni or Crazy Bread combo. Why it fits: Little Caesars is quick, economical, and perfect for your on-the-go, social lifestyle.

California Pizza Kitchen: The Gourmet Explorer Personality: You enjoy life’s finer things and love a creative twist. You’re not afraid to try unexpected flavor combinations. Signature choice: The Original BBQ Chicken or the Thai Chicken Pizza. Why it fits: California Pizza Kitchen caters to your refined taste and adventurous palate.

Marco’s Pizza: The Traditionalist with a Twist Personality: You value authenticity but also appreciate a modern spin on the classics. You’re all about bold flavors with a touch of nostalgia. Signature choice: White Cheezy Pizza or the Deluxe. Why it fits: Marco’s focuses on high-quality ingredients and a balance of tradition and innovation, just like you.

Blaze Pizza: The Customizer Personality: You want control over every aspect of your pizza, from the crust to the toppings. You’re creative and unique, and no two pizzas you order are ever the same. Signature choice: A build-your-own masterpiece with unlimited toppings. Why it fits: Blaze Pizza’s fast-casual, made-to-order approach reflects your individuality and love for options.

Giordano’s: The Deep Thinker Personality: You appreciate depth and substance in all things, including your pizza. You take your time to savor life (and cheese). Signature choice: A classic Chicago-style deep dish. Why it fits: Giordano’s hearty, slow-baked pizzas suit your thoughtful and deliberate personality.

MOD Pizza: The Free Spirit Personality: You’re unconventional and love breaking the mold. MOD’s quirky vibe and endless customization options align perfectly with your creativity. Signature choice: A MOD-size custom creation with funky toppings like balsamic drizzle or roasted garlic. Why it fits: MOD’s playful, “be yourself” energy is a match for your eclectic taste.

Sbarro: The Nostalgic Dreamer Personality: You’re all about simple pleasures and love a taste of the past. For you, pizza means classic flavors and a New York slice experience. Signature choice: A giant pepperoni slice from the food court. Why it fits: Sbarro’s no-frills, classic pizza satisfies your nostalgic heart.

What’s Your Perfect Pizza Match? Whether you’re adventurous, nostalgic, or gourmet-focused, there’s a pizza chain that matches your vibe. What’s your pick? Or better yet, are you a mix of flavors? The perfect pizza is the one that feels like you—so dig in and enjoy!

[jksdistributor]

The Magic Ingredient:The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning

In the world of culinary delights, seasonings play a pivotal role in elevating the flavors of our favorite dishes. Whether a professional chef or a home cook, you understand the importance of the right seasonings to transform a simple meal into a gastronomic masterpiece. One such culinary gem that has recently been making waves is The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning. In this blog, we'll dive deep into the magic of this remarkable seasoning and discover why it has become a must-have in kitchens worldwide.

What is The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning?

The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning is a versatile and flavor-packed condiment that has taken the culinary world by storm. It's known for its unique combination of mildness and depth of flavor, making it a perfect choice for enhancing a wide range of dishes. This liquid seasoning is designed to add a delightful umami kick to your recipes without overwhelming your taste buds.

The Versatility of The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning

One of the standout features of this liquid seasoning is its versatility. It can be used in a multitude of ways to enhance the taste of your dishes:

Marinades: Create mouthwatering marinades for meats, poultry, or seafood by adding "The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning." Its savory notes infuse into the protein, adding depth and a hint of umami.

Sauces and Dressings: Elevate your sauces, dressings, and gravies by incorporating this liquid seasoning. It imparts a rich flavor profile that complements a wide array of cuisines.

Stir-Fries: Add a dash of wonder to your stir-fries. The mildness of this liquid seasoning allows you to control the flavor while enhancing the overall taste.

Soups and Stews: Upgrade the flavor of your soups and stews by including a few drops of The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning. It can turn a simple broth into a gourmet delight.

Seasoning for Vegetables: Even vegetables benefit from a touch of wonder. Drizzle some liquid seasoning over roasted or steamed vegetables for an added layer of taste.

The Magic Ingredients

What sets The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning apart is its carefully crafted blend of high-quality ingredients. It typically includes a combination of soy sauce, selected herbs, spices, and a hint of sweetness. This unique formula creates a harmonious balance of flavors that works wonders in various dishes.

Health-Conscious Choice

For health-conscious people, "The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning" offers a more controlled way to season dishes than traditional salt. You can achieve the same depth of flavor with less sodium, making it a smart choice for those looking to reduce their salt intake.

Endless Culinary Possibilities

The beauty of The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning lies in its ability to adapt to various culinary traditions. Whether you're cooking Asian, Mediterranean, American, or other cuisine, this liquid seasoning seamlessly fits into your recipes. It's an excellent way to experiment with flavors and add an unexpected twist to your favorite dishes.

Culinary Inspiration

To give you a taste of what's possible with The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning, here are a few recipe ideas to get your creative culinary juices flowing:

Teriyaki Chicken: Create a delectable teriyaki sauce by mixing soy sauce, honey, garlic, ginger, and "The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning." Marinate chicken pieces and grill to perfection.

Umami Burger: Elevate your homemade burgers by adding a few drops of liquid seasoning to the ground meat mixture. The umami burst will have your taste buds dancing.

Mediterranean Salad Dressing: Blend olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, and a touch of liquid seasoning for a Mediterranean-inspired salad dressing that's both refreshing and savory.

Conclusion

The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning is more than just a condiment; it's a culinary game-changer. Its versatility, rich flavor profile, and health-conscious attributes make it a must-have in any kitchen. Whether you're a seasoned chef or an aspiring home cook, this liquid seasoning can transform ordinary meals into extraordinary culinary experiences. So, embrace the magic of The Wonder Mild Liquid Seasoning as you embark on a flavorful journey in your kitchen.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

GD!Jimin Extras: Golden Hour

As they say, taking a picture lasts longer.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, slow-burn

word count: 2.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

A snapshot of the days before The Storm

A/N: Shout out to @azulamakesmeblank​ because this was partially inspired by this ask! As promised, a fluff chapter before the literal shit storm that’s about to take place in the story (butisitreallywhenyoureadthelastlineofthispromptwhat:’)) I hope you enjoy it! it’s kinda half edited dkfhgha I love you guys as always for your support and patience for this story! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​ 

You arrive at the front door a little too breathlessly in your haste. It should be embarrassing but blaming your increased pulse on your lack of fitness has your mind and, ironically, your heart resting easier than having to think that you're actually half-nervous and half-excited to see Jimin again.

Even though you literally saw him just yesterday.

You really need to pull yourself together better; you'd rather not have a repeat of pouring tomato sauce all over the counter because your hands got too shaky from Jimin watching you cook dinner (and after you insisted on him not needing to do anything too!)

You take in a fortifying breath, appearing to be squaring up to take the final stand in saving the world instead of simply seeing your boyfriend for what's essentially a stay-in dinner date. You punch in the pass code to the lock pad with practised ease, almost not giving enough time for the beep to chime as you push the door open.

“Jimin?” You call out in greeting once you toe off your shoes and slip on your pair of house slippers. Your eyes scan over the vast living room, spotting the head of raven locks peeking out from the end of the couch. Stepping closer, a smile sneaks its way onto your lips when you realize that he's most likely resting, given his lack of response. Quietly, you step into the kitchen area to set down your bags of grocery on the counter before you make your way to peer over the back of the seat. You're instantly smitten at what you see.

The sun is beginning to make its descent below the horizon, dying the clouds in an ombre of fiery oranges, pinks and reds against the remnants of soft pale blue sky. Thanks to the generous amount of window space the penthouse has, the golden glow easily washes over the interior of the living room and bathes everything with its light; Jimin being no exception.

It cascades over his skin like honey, high-lighting the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, and the shape of his cupid's bow. It makes his long lashes stand out so delicately and the equally dark strands of hair that falls gently over his forehead. Your fingers itch to sweep them away yet at the same time, you don't dare risk disturbing this sleeping beauty.

So unconsciously, you silently settle yourself on the top of the couch, resting your elbows on the cushion with your head propped up in your hand.

He looks so completely relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over his stomach. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, forearms toned and the first few buttons undone to expose a teasing view of his collarbones while black slacks hug his thighs perfectly (as per usual). If someone were to take a picture of him right now and slap on some big fashion name on it, you're pretty sure anyone who would see it would believe it to be a legit advertisement or a cover of a magazine.

Now that the thought has crossed your mind, temptation begins to rear its head. From the beginning, it's a no brainer what you imagine one would do given the opportunity of having a guardian demon that looks like the carbon copy of your favourite idol; do whatever you can to prevent said demon from stepping out into the world and risk slandering the actual person they're parading around as, or indulge in your wildest fantasies now that you have the means.

It's....a rather unique position to be in, with a plethora of mixed feelings to say the least.

After the initial shock of it wore off (which was really just taking three business day to process it all), you've come to the conclusion that this whole thing was, more than anything, weird. Some people might be able to turn a blind eye and though you're grateful that he had decided to look like Park Jimin from BTS, no matter how good of a disguise it was, it still doesn't change the fact that it's not Jimin.

You were grateful, but it made you a little resentful towards him.

With such a stark contrast, it's as if all of the good things you associated with that face had been sullied for something colder and unfeeling. You hated that he had chosen to use someone like Park Jimin – the perfect example of a good human being – to mask his much more sinister nature. You were sure it was part of some sick joke, and it felt...wrong.

Like you've lost part of a safe space in your world to the uglier side of the universe.

So in an attempt to preserve Jimin's good name in your heart, you were adamant in keeping your guardian demon at arms' length, hence why doing something as simple as taking a picture with him was out of the question. Not only would it not be in good faith, you can't begin to imagine what would happen if it got out to the world somehow.

And you succeeded....in the most unexpected way possible.

Maybe it was the deep rooted connection you had for Jimin, but there was always, without a doubt, a part of you that was soft to him. At first it had irked you, however over time, you realized it allowed for you to see another part of him that you wouldn't have otherwise. It made you open up to the idea that....he's not as bad as he seems.

You were afraid of losing a piece to your safe space when really, you ended up gaining an entirely new one instead, one that had become just as important.

So maybe that's why, as the longer you stared at Jimin (who's not Jimin but that doesn't mean he's worth anything less), the more you wanted to preserve this memory of him to keep for yourself. It's selfish you know, but things have changed, you've changed, and this is too good of a chance to pass up.

Your phone is out, hands steady as you pull up the camera and you want to laugh at how the image on your screen does no justice in capturing just how ethereal the sight before you is (of course it doesn't, should you really be surprised?) That doesn't stop your finger from tapping the snap button, because as they say, taking a picture lasts longer. The shot is satisfactory enough, getting him at an angle that show him from the waist up. You wonder if you can get another one, this time a little wider....

Well, you'll never know if you'd ever get the shot because your guardian demon chooses to wake up at that moment, locking piercing eyes with you through the phone. You immediately freeze.

There's a pause on his end before you see him pinpoint exactly what is going and a sly smirk tugs imperceptibly at the corner of his lips. “Cherub....” He greets, the low drawl sultry and irises pools of rich melted chocolate.

You gulp, straightening up while trying to inconspicuously put away your phone, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “Rest well....?”

Jimin pretends to hum in deep thought, shifting so that he's facing more comfortably towards you. “For a good while yes....until my demon senses started tingling, telling me I was being watched. Should I be mildly concerned that you like watching me sleep?”

You scoff, “I don't always watch you sleep.”

“And you totally weren't snapping stalker photos of me.”

Your jaw drops, affronted but you don't go on to deny the claim. “Hey, calling them stalker photos is a stretch. And I'm just saying this because this was the only time I've ever – oof!”

Without warning, his hand had shot out to grab a hold of one of your wrist hanging over the back and with a strong tug, you fall face first onto his chest, an arm encircling you to keep you in place.

“Whatever you wanna call it, doesn't change that I'm still going to charge you for them.” You hear him playfully chastise above you. When you tilt your head up, you see him quirk an eyebrow at you expectantly. You blink, then roll your eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced by his stinginess, as if you're not ready to give him everything if he so much as breathes a word of it.

“Alright, what do you want?”

Jimin doesn't say anything in response, simply staring at you with those bottomless eyes, a smoulder simmering beneath their surface that it has you drowning in their depths. He watches you, unperturbed by your squirming (actually amuses in it) before you practically hear him purr, “What do you think I want?”

Your heart easily skips a beat (or more) and you're sure he can feel it beating frantically from your chest to his. While you're internally combusting, Jimin remains the picture definition of smug, free arm still propped behind his head the same time the other is wrapped around your waist, your face heating at the way you feel his thumb stroke at the strip of warm skin peeking out thanks to your shirt riding up a bit in the tumble.

He's actually infuriating, you think. Why's he gotta be so damn good at what he does?! You don't think he's even trying. Ugh, get it together, this is nothing new so it's not even a big deal! You can be cool about it too!

Giving yourself a chaotic pep talk apparently is what helps you find the courage to scooch up until you're able to land a chaste peck on the centre of his lips. Before you can fully withdraw, you already see the unimpressed look Jimin is shooting your way.

“I know you can do better than that.”

You puff, chewing on your lower lip into a pout; the deadpan in his voice makes you grumble at being called out, your neck and the tips of your ears burning now. Seeing you so flustered though, Jimin couldn't help but be endeared, then finally decide to ease up on the teasing he's been relentlessly subjecting you to. Slowly, he lowers the arm behind his head to gently take a hold on your chin, bringing your attention back to the adoring smile softening his features.

“Pretty cherub,” He coaxes, “Won't you give a little sweet treat for me?”

It takes everything in you to suppress the small whimper that wanted to jump out from the base of your throat at hearing those words. Whether it's teasing, cocky Jimin or loving, doting Jimin, you really aren't built to handle any of them at all, seemingly defaulting to a blushing mess no matter how hard you try be unfazed. Which is why after a moment of resigning to your fate, accepting that there was no point resisting when your heart and body have already betrayed you, do you close your eyes and give in wholeheartedly.

He welcomes you, carefully lets you mould your lips to his for a proper kiss and you helplessly melt against him. You don't think you can ever get used to the feeling but it's like Jimin doesn't mind one bit, pace unhurried to savour every press like it’s your first. Your mind becomes muddled the longer it goes on, and when you feel the swipe of his tongue, you're nearly gone. But as tempting as it is, you can't get too carried away here – you still have dinner to cook!

You allow yourself a few tantalizing licks before you part with great reluctance. Through hazy eyes you meet Jimin's, the little breath you have hitching from the sight of his swollen, moistened lips and dark brown irises now glowing a muted maroon, on the verge of igniting into full blown desire.

“Can't have you spoiling dinner so early.” You say, then embarrassingly avert your gaze at how your voice comes out raspy and thick.

You miss the way the corner of Jimin's mouth twitch, but catch the mischievous glint that's no doubt from mentioning the word 'dinner'. You put on your best scolding face, smacking his chest lightly in reprimand.

“No.”

“I didn't even say anything.” His incredulous retort is drowned out by the laugh he lets out with it, the sound has you struggling to maintain your 'serious' front.

“You were thinking it.”

“Are you sure it's not you projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

You humphed, about to turn away and get off your personal body pillow but Jimin's hold remains steadfast. He sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead once you settle back down again as a means to placate you, chuckling softly, “Okay, okay, I'll behave.”

You giggle lightly, cheeks pressed into his collarbone as you give an approving hum, cuddling even closer to his person and you both lapse into a comfortable silence, breaths in sync. Outside, the final rays of the setting sun disappears below the city's horizon, taking the warmth of the day along with it.

But you find no lack in that when you're lying here in his embrace, because whereas the sun comes and goes, yours remains unwavering.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

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T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Wicked Game (Part 2)

Word Count: 20K+ total Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. The first part is about 5K, part 2 is 7K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Ashton grabbed his bag and shut off the lights in the bar. Hima was waiting impatiently by the door, keys in hand. Following the disaster of an afternoon, they'd been packed until closing. He'd been too busy cooking to think about it, something he loved about his job. The rush and the heat combined with the complete focus on his work. You had to keep your eyes on your fingers or you got hurt. The satisfaction of plating an order and sending it out until the next order came in, starting the process over again. 

"Will you come on?" Hima tapped her foot, making her keys jangle. "My brother is waiting for us."  Her twin brother had passed the bar exam a month ago, but everything had been so crazy with the opening they hadn't properly celebrated yet. 

The bouncer recognized Hima and let them in immediately. Tirana was a sleek, neon-lit bar favoring overpriced cocktails, elaborately garnished and meant to be as much of a showpiece as a beverage. Ashton eyed the crowd full of men sporting off the rack Italian suits with egos as inflated as their dates' chests. Kabir was waiting in VIP with his friends and waved them up. Ashton congratulated him and ordered a spiked seltzer, passing on the bottle service Kabir offered. Hima was taking shots with the guys and he joined them in a toast. As he was taking a drink he spotted Calum Hood leaning against the wall, looking bored and maybe a little drunk. Hima must've seen his expression because she whipped around just as Calum looked up and noticed them. Ashton tried to look away and act as if he hadn't noticed the other man. Hima had other ideas and made a beeline for the reporter. 

"Hey Calum, fancy meeting you here," she said relieved when he seemed happy to see her. "Come have a drink with us, or am I interrupting something?"

"If you're buying," Calum replied. "A friend brought me here and then fucked off on a phone call." He laughed, but it died out when he saw Ashton.

"Listen," Hima cut him off before he could speak. "I know this afternoon didn't go well, but what you don't know is just before you came in, my boss had to sit through an interview with Kevin Mackie. It did not go well " 

"Oh God, that insufferable bastard," Calum snorted.

"Exactly, and you know Mackie brought up all that old shit from Lune Rouge," Hima told him "That's in addition to insulting every woman who works there, of course." 

Calum cringed, and his eyes flickered back towards Ashton talking to Kabir and his lawyer friends. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the intense scowling man he'd encountered this afternoon and the smiling bubbly ray of sunshine he was looking at now. Was that an actual giggle? Calum blamed the tequila for agreeing to join Hima for a quick drink since his date still hadn't come back. He'd allowed his editor, Shamara, to set him up twice now, but there wouldn't be a third time. 

Ashton wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans as he watched Calum following Hima over towards them. He'd found the reporter attractive this afternoon, but he'd been wearing a long sleeve button up for the interview. Tonight Calum was in all black, and the tank top he wore under the leather jacket showed the ink etched into his skin above his collarbones. Ashton gripped the drink in his hands a bit tighter, trying to keep his nerves steady. He slowly edged his way over to where they were talking just as Calum launched into a story about his magazine sending him on a tour of small mom and pop restaurants up the California coast. 

"The owner's husband was sick that day, so she was doing most of the work herself," Calum was saying as Ashton listened in on the conversation. "Beulah was amazing, but they were getting slammed. I asked if she needed any help, and I spent the next three hours manning a fryer. I cooked the chicken, and she'd toss it in the hot oil and spices before slapping it on a bun with the sauce. You'd get the sandwich, pickle, and fries in a little brown sack. We sold hundreds of them, but I knew why when it slowed down enough that I finally got to eat. It's the best chicken sandwich you'll ever have! Tossing it in that spicy oil gives it a flavor that punches you in the mouth. She taught me most of her secrets over the two days I ended up staying until her husband got over the flu.." 

I could listen to this man talk all day, Ashton thought watching Calum's expressions and hands as he told the story. The way his chest rumbled when he laughed, which was often throughout the tale. He seemed like a genuinely warm person, and Hima seemed to like him. Maybe I was wrong, five years is a long time

"That's so sweet," Hima smiled up at Calum as he finished..  She was smitten despite hearing rumors he played for the other team. 

"Ended up extending my trip for an extra five days which caused all sorts of headaches when I got back. My boss was pissed I'd gone over my expense account," Calum said, shaking his head at the memory, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol now loosening his tongue. He was relieved his date was still MIA. Ashton was standing close enough for Calum to smell his cologne, and it was proving distracting. 

"Is that the same magazine you work for now?" Hima asked.

"Yeah, but I was damn near fired. I paid back the money by throwing cash onto my boss's desk when I turned in my story, and he was not amused. The editor-in-chief, who also owns the publisher,  loved my story, and after that, I was sent on more in-depth character profiles. I wanna get to know the people behind the food." Calum looked directly at Ashton, meeting his eyes as he spoke. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity in Ashton's hazel eyes as he listened. How is he this handsome? Calum thought. This man has no right to be this good looking. That chest hair peeking out from under that pink shirt is teasing me. Wonder what's underneath? Wait, no I don’t. Stop thinking about that or you're gonna get hard.

"So what exactly were you sent to find?" Ashton asked, his tone still guarded but more friendly than before. 

Calum took a deep breath and thought quickly. After the interview bombed this afternoon, he came up with a backup plan if Ashton didn't come through. He made a decision to float both his ideas.

"Look, I know a lot of people are bugging you for gossip about your personal life, but that's not what I'm here for. You opened your first restaurant at 25, and the food at Lune Rouge was fantastic. I know I didn't give you a good review then, but I was trying to be edgy and cool," Calum admitted.

Ashton exhaled and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. Mackie brought up Luke, and when you mentioned Finn I snapped. I'd like to try again, but I know Hima is more interesting. So what did you have in mind?" Ashton smiled and Calum had butterflies in his stomach. 

"I'd like to watch you cook, and see how you are in the kitchen. Tell me how your philosophy on cooking has evolved and what stayed the same," Calum replied. I hope that didn't sound as cringe to him as it did to me. Turning to Hima, he continued talking, "I'd like to do an extra little feature on you if that's ok. It'll give the article a nice balance I think, what do you say?" 

Ashton saw Hima's face light up and knew he'd have to say yes. He had to admit, the pitch sounded great, even if the idea of Calum watching him work made him nervous. They turned towards him to see what he thought, and Ashton's gaze landed on Calum's mouth just as he licked his lips. Please don't do that, he thought to himself. Don't make me think about how you taste, and how those lips would feel against mine.

"I definitely think Hima deserves her own feature. I'll go along with whatever you want," Ashton told them. 

"You know Calum," Hima turned on the charm. "I'm off tomorrow. I could take you to the best Indian restaurant you've never heard of for lunch." Her eyes got huge and she grabbed Calum's arm. "I'm a genius you guys, listen, the restaurant is hella busy, and the boss man," she nodded towards Ashton, "won't be much fun to interview if there are customers waiting. He just redid the kitchen in his condo, so why don't you do the interview there? That way he's not around us idiots at the restaurant." 

Both men stared at her, and Hima panicked thinking she'd overstepped somehow until Ashton nodded. "Sounds like it could work, what do you think?" He asked looking at Calum who nodded, his smile getting broader. 

“Sure, um, that sounds great. Really just um, great," he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. "Go ahead and put your number in, and I'll text you tomorrow." 

"Is that your little sister?" Hima asked, spotting the picture on his lock screen. 

"That's my daughter, Vanessa Joy. Absolute light of my life," Calum beamed, pulling up another pic.

"Daughter?" Hima and Ashton exchanged shocked looks before quickly regaining their composure.

"We were kids. I hadn't figured things out yet," Calum gave his standard explanation. 

He started to say more, but he spotted his now-forgotten date headed back towards them.  Hima saw his grimace and followed his gaze to the approaching man. She guessed he must be a lawyer who wanted everyone to know it, wearing a double-breasted British tailored suit and gold Submariner watch.

"Sorry about that Cal, that was a client who's a real pain in the ass," the newcomer joined their little group, peering at Ashton with suspicion. "I'm Nick Callahan, a junior partner at Fish, Filbeck, and Greene " Hima almost laughed out loud at this skinny little dude in a fancy suit trying to puff out his chest and put some bass in his voice as he went to shake her boss's hand. Ashton looked amused but Calum not so much. 

"Calum, if you don't mind, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Nick waved at a group who'd just come in. He tried to pull Calum away, but he shook Nick's hand off his arm.

"Give me a second, and I'll be over," Calum said, nodding at someone he recognized in the group. "Tell Teddy to order a round of drinks, I'm buying." When Nick still didn't budge, Calum turned his body towards his date and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I'm interviewing this young lady tomorrow, and I want to get it set up before I get drunk, ok?" 

Nick swallowed at the warning in Calum's voice and scurried off to meet his friends. 

"Sorry about that," Calum turned back, smiling again. He had them each put their number in and saved the info with a smile.  "I'm so glad I ran into y'all. Hima, I will text you in the morning, and Ashton just let me know when and where." He gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek which made her blush furiously. He shook Ashton's hand and everything seemed to pause as they locked eyes, exchanging smiles. The handshake lingered a beat too long before they both pulled back completely flustered. 

"See you guys then," Calum made a hasty retreat towards Nick and his friends. 

"What did you do?" Ashton hissed, feeling dizzy, excited, terrified, and nauseous all at once. 

"We'll just have to see, won't we? You two are obviously into each other," Hima tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving Ashton a pointed look. 

"I'm not trying to start anything, you know that. Since the divorce it's been too hard and-" Ashton stopped when she put her finger to his lips.

"It's an interview. With a very attractive reporter. You'll be in your element, you can hide behind your food and your knives, but you can get through this. I want my feature." She glared at him and stood on her tiptoes trying to go eye to eye with him.

He had to laugh. Hima was impossible to stay cross with. As he glanced back over towards Calum, he couldn't deny he was intrigued. Don't get your hopes up, Irwin. 

Kabir came over to drag them back to his friends. Ashton spent the next hour dancing with Kabir's girlfriend and watching his friends try to hit on Hima without getting caught. Hima's family was overprotective, and her mother was constantly pressuring Kabir to find his sister a good match. As a result, she kept her private life closely guarded, even Ashton didn't know much, although he suspected she had a thing going with one of the servers at Anne-Marie's. 

As the song ended, he realized he had to pee. Ashton excused himself and followed the neon arrows to a dimly lit hallway decorated with glow in the dark graffiti. He made his way past the line for the women's room and around two people noisily making out next to the emergency exit. He reached the men's room door just as it swung open towards him. He stumbled back to avoid being hit and collided with the couple behind him. An arm shot out from the tangled bodies, shoving him forward chest first into the man who'd just come out of the bathroom. Ashton put his hands up to steady himself, inhaling the scent of leather and whiskey with a faint whiff of stale tobacco as he looked at Calum's face inches from his own.

"Sorry, uh, I was pushed," Ashton apologized, unable to stop staring at the other man's lips.

"It's ok," Calum's heart was pounding, and he was sure Ashton could feel it through his jacket. He was tempted to make a move and go in for a kiss. He paused long enough to remember the interview, and not wanting to have another misstep, he let the moment pass. "It's all yours," he said squeezing over so Ashton could pass.

Ashton paused, confused, but remembered he was headed to the bathroom. "Thanks, uh, see ya," he replied trying not to stammer. Yeah, that was smooth, he thought. Before he closed the door, he looked back and caught Calum looking back at him.hey both smiled before the crowd closed in and he lost eye contact. He had to stand and splash cold water on his face to get his pulse back to normal. When he looked in the mirror, he saw that his face was still very pink and he was grinning like a fool. I didn't just imagine that did I? What am I doing? What am I going to cook for him? 

*********

Ashton jumped at the sound of the buzzer even though he was expecting her. He quickly let her up, and within seconds Hima was at his door. 

"How did it go?" He hadn't even fully opened the door before the question was past his lips.

"Eager much? Why don't you get me a drink, and I'll decide what I want to tell you," she said, taking off her jacket and hanging it up. 

"You impertinent bitch," Ashton cracked up and headed to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

"You sound like my mother," Hima settled at the bar facing him.

Ashton had expanded his kitchen so he could install a six top gas range and a convection oven while giving himself extra counter space with a small sink directly across and a small island in between. Instead of a dining room, he had an L-shaped bar where he could serve guests directly from the kitchen. He pulled a pitcher of cold brew out of the fridge and poured himself a glass with a splash of cashew milk adding a splash to her cup of hot chai. 

"It's such a shame you're gay. We'd have such a great marriage," she joked blowing on her tea.

"I love you too much to marry you, darling," Ashton replied as always. 

"Good thing I like my new stepdaddy," she told him, and he choked on his coffee. 

"So what did you guys talk about?" He asked when he'd recovered. 

"Mostly me, but also you. What do you want first, the details about him or what he asked about you?" Hima smirked at him, almost laughing when he glared at her. 

"I'll let you decide, how about that?" Ashton rummaged through the refrigerator before pulling out a loaf of bread. 

"Ooh snack time. When did you go to the market? I thought you opened for Rafi today. What are you gonna make for him?" She fired off, trying to crane her neck to see what he bought.

"Nope, you're gonna talk or you're not getting fed. I went before I went in at ten and I stayed till eight. I've barely got home, and I don't need your attitude, young lady. Now spill it," he told her as he pulled out a couple of onions and some gruyere cheese. 

"I love it when you're pissy. It looks so good on you. So I took him to Parvati's and ordered chana masala on roasted sweet potatoes. It was so good, I wish you liked Indian food more. We talked about my family, and how they're mostly engineers and lawyers but food was my passion. Confessed that when we first met, I had the biggest crush on you because you were so handsome." She giggled and made a show of fluttering her eyelashes at him. Ashton blushed and threw a caper at her. Hima swatted it back at him and kept talking. "Calum agreed you were handsome by the way. So I told him how you'd mentored me, and when you left the Hilton to open Anne-Marie's, you brought me with you. It was very heartwarming, and I promise I made you look good. He asked a few questions about you, but it was mostly professional stuff. What was it like working for you? What kind of collaborative effort went into the menu? Stuff like that," she shrugged watching Ashton heat up some soup as the sandwiches cooked. 

"Well, that's a lot of nothing. I thought you were better than that," Ashton said, pouting his lips at her. 

"I know he asked if you were single, but he was hella smooth about it. He asked what kind of gift he should bring tomorrow, whether it should be a bottle of wine or something you could share if you had a roommate. Don't worry, I let him know you were single, but I was cool about it," Hima grinned at her boss's discomfort. He cut the sandwich in half and poured a cup of soup to go with it. He cut some fresh chives to top off the soup along with some crème Fraiche and fresh cracked pepper. 

She stopped talking to enjoy the food. Ashton introduced her to cream of celery soup and it quickly became a favorite. The sandwich was beyond good yet incredibly simple: sauteed onions on a grilled cheese sandwich made with Ashton's homemade compound shallot-butter. 

"I'm disappointed, I thought you were better than that," Ashton raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not done, I'm just enjoying the food. My compliments to the chef." Hima ripped a piece of crust off her sandwich and dipped it in her soup. "I found out some things about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome," she told him before running her tongue along the edge of the bread and then taking a bite. 

Ashton laughed and flipped her off. He had pastry cream cooking in a double boiler, so he was continuously stirring between bites. 

Watching him work, she never knew if she was completely in awe of him or a little in love with him, but probably both if she was honest with herself. She'd told Calum as much, off the record of course. It always amazed her how his large hands could be so nimble and quick with a knife, yet so delicate and careful when he was garnishing and plating. She'd told Calum how grateful she was that Ashton had given her such a huge opportunity without being patronizing or expecting her to touch his cock. 

People might think cooking would be a natural fit for a woman but professional kitchens were very much a man's world. You had to be physically and mentally tough. She was lucky that she'd gotten out the hotels before she'd been subjected to sexual harassment, but she'd seen enough. Ashton didn't tolerate any kind of physical or verbal harassment, but every cook could curse a blue streak and work through an injury. Most cooks wore their scars like battle wounds. Hima had a jagged thin white line trailing down her left forearm from a staple on a lettuce box that ripped her flesh open while putting away a truck. Ashton had a couple of red welts from the panini grill decorating his arms and a gnarly pink, puckered scar on his left wrist from an accident with molten sugar years ago.

"Ok so, he's a year and a half younger than you, turns 28 in January actually. Aquarius, so that should be fun. Never married, but he's got the kid," Hima informed him.

"That really came out of nowhere the other night. I never would've guessed that," Ashton said over his shoulder, turning his back on her to keep stirring. 

"It happened when he was in high school. His first girlfriend, their senior year of high school. They'd already been broken up for two months when they got the news, just when he'd started to figure out his sexuality. They tried to get back together for the sake of their daughter but quickly realized it wouldn't work in a traditional way. Now they're best friends and co-parents to Vanessa Joy. In fact, when Nicole married her boyfriend, Michael, two years ago Calum walked her down the aisle," Hima told him.

Ashton's jaw dropped. "What the hell, Hima? You guys had lunch one time and you know his life story." 

"My mother's interrogation skills rubbed off I guess. His daughter also happened to call while he was with me. It was so cute; she made the honor roll and he was so proud. He apologized for taking the call during lunch but said he always has to answer if it's his daughter or his mom." 

Ashton turned towards Hima, smiling and blushing, "I can respect that." 

"I'm sure you can, Mama's boy," she replied. "Honestly the two of you are adorable. A pair of smitten kittens. He kept asking questions about what it's like to work with you. What are you like as a boss? And every question he got this funny little smile and couldn't look at me. I really hate that you get the best looking guys. It's bad enough you look like that," Hima gestured at him as she looked him up and down. "First Luke, and now Calum, I'm so jealous. That being said I really hope you hook up with him. You could stand to get laid." 

"Watch it," he cautioned, not wanting to kill the mood.

"Sorry, but the other night y'all had some serious chemistry. You should go for it. Speaking of, I gotta go. Kabir is having a date night so I actually don't have to go home," she checked her phone, and Ashton didn't recognize the gaudy pink glitter case. 

She caught his puzzled expression and laughed, "My mom checks my location, so my iPhone and my car stay at Maisie's. Everything gets forwarded here, and I don't have to answer a million questions." 

"You're 24, how are you still dealing with this? When is your mother going to treat you like an adult?" Ashton shook his head, he never understood how she dealt with her family.

She sighed, "It's impossible to explain unless you have Asian parents. My mom grew up here, but my grandparents were still very much rooted in India. If you think my mom is difficult, you should've met grandma." A text came in, and she wrinkled her nose in annoyance reading it. "Why am I the only person who's punctual?" She muttered to herself before looking back at Ashton. "So what are you making tomorrow for the big date, I mean, interview? Mind if I smoke?" 

He shook his head and followed her onto the balcony. "Stop saying that, I'm nervous enough as it is. I'm starting with a wilted chard salad with figs and goat cheese, and maybe a soup. I haven't decided, but for the main, I'm making mushroom Wellington with my specialty Mac and cheese and whatever vegetables I pick up at the market tomorrow morning. I'm making a sorbet for dessert. I was going to make a pavlova, but I don't have the patience for merengue right now." 

"Calum doesn't stand a chance, he'll be thoroughly seduced. Then I'll get my magazine story and be a star. People will start asking me for photos on the street, they'll learn how to pronounce my name, and I'm only going by Hima. I think I can get away with just one name, like Madonna, Beyonce, and Cher. Don't you? I promise the fame won't go to my head. I'll still be Hima from the block." 

Ashton cracked up. "Ok there, Roxy Hart," he teased. "You are so extra, it's too much for an old gay like myself." 

"You're not even thirty," she protested. Another text came in and her eyes lit up. She stubbed her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe before wiping it clean with a napkin and stuffed both in her purse to throw away outside. "You've just gotta get back on the horse, and Calum seems like the type who'd be into chaps and spurs." 

"Don't you have places to go, people to do?" He asked, walking her to the door.

"Sure do, good luck tomorrow," she kissed his cheek and was gone.

*********

Calum finished the dishes and popped another antacid in his mouth. Spicy food didn't used to give him heartburn. Getting old I guess. His dog, Brutus, danced around his feet begging for a treat. 

"Not gonna happen, old man," he bent down to scratch the pooch behind his ears, but Brutus immediately flipped over for a belly rub. "Greedy bastard," Calum chuckled but obliged with a ton down and chin scratches. He found a chew stick on the couch and tossed it over by the dog's bed, and soon Brutus was curled up contentedly gnawing himself to sleep. 

Calum watched his little guy for a bit before heading to his desk to type out a rough draft. Hima was a firecracker, full of energy and ideas, and hard to keep up with. She talked a mile a minute, often switching topics mid-thought as she spoke. He'd had his voice recorder on, but he liked to write his first draft from memory. He admired her passion for her work, and her determination to follow her own path. She was fiercely loyal to Ashton and grateful for the opportunity he'd given her. Calum would've suspected she was a bit smitten with her boss, but she openly admitted her crush. She was quick to insist Ashton had never encouraged or entertained the idea, but she didn't need to tell him that. 

Calum knew all about Ashton's history, the cheating, the fights, the messy breakup that brought the restaurant down. He exhaled, nervous about having that conversation. He shut his laptop, now too distracted to write. It's just an interview, calm down. He tried to be rational, but his thoughts kept drifting back to bumping into Ashton at the bar. The pink shirt, the star tattoo begging to be traced with his tongue, those hazel eyes that made his heart jump into his stomach. He tried to focus on his laptop. This article wasn't going to write itself. 

****

Ashton laid on his back, concentrating on his breathing as he pressed his knees to the floor in reclining bound angle pose. He'd had too much coffee, and although his body was tired, his mind was racing. His phone was vibrating on the dresser, but Ashton ignored it, moving into a butterfly pose and touching his forehead to the floor. He exhaled, trying to clear his mind. But all he could think about was Calum Hood. He had a brand new restaurant to run. Now was not a good time to become infatuated with a handsome reporter. So why haven't you stopped smiling all day?  

He breathed deeply, in, out, in, out. But he couldn't concentrate, couldn't calm down. He pushed himself off the floor and grabbed his water off the table. He opened his phone and was surprised to see a notification from the restaurant security system. 

Alarm deactivated at 12:02 AM 

Alarm Panel 2

Code: 4452

Ashton realized Hima was at the restaurant. He knew she usually went there after her accounting class but that definitely wasn't the case tonight. Probably popped in for a bottle of wine, which doesn't sound like a bad idea. 

The kitchen tiles were chilly beneath his bare feet as he headed towards the small wine fridge on his counter. Craving something sweet, he found a Shiraz he'd been saving and poured a small glass. He scrolled through Spotify, picking a playlist at random, and Robyn's  "Dancing on my Own" came over the speakers following him through the apartment back into his bedroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused. 

He pulled his shirt off and turned around examining the freshly-healed Phoenix tattoo decorating his left side from his hip to the top of his ribs,  covering up the tattoo of Luke's name, birth date, and their wedding date. He trusted his tattoo artist and let him have creative freedom on the brightly-colored feathers and flames. It turned out beautifully. He turned sideways, rubbing his stomach and flexing in the mirror. He was in the best shape he'd been in since he was a teenager. Yoga kept him toned and lean so he was muscled without being bulky.

I'm giving it my all

But I'm not the girl you're taking home

He let the Swedish synth-pop beat take over, his hips swaying as he listened to lyrics about loneliness and feeling left out.

I keep dancing on my own

The irony wasn't lost on him as he kept dancing, moving away from the mirror. The next song was too slow so he quickly scrolled looking for something better. He clicked on Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know," and began to sing along. He saw that Hima hadn't left the restaurant and opened up the security camera feed on his phone to make sure she was ok. 

****

The more Calum stared at the screen the more his concentration drifted. He wondered if Ashton had a type. Cal knew he was decent looking, but he wasn't Luke Hemmings. He snorted at the thought of that simpering pretty boy. Luke was a spoiled child, soft and weak, thinking only of himself. I bet he's selfish in bed, probably a bossy bottom  He was surprised at the surge of jealousy he felt. Don't bring Finn into this. He rubbed his temples at the memory of finding out his then-boyfriend was cheating with Luke.

Finn was always looking for an opportunity, whatever would take him to the next level. His relationship of almost a year with Calum failed to get him noticed in the food press. Finn felt Ashton didn't give him enough credit at Lune Rouge and whined constantly about it. Cal was having his own career struggles at the time and personally thought Finn was acting like a spoiled brat instead of being grateful for the opportunity. They began to spend less time together after Calum's snarky review caused a huge blow up. So when Ashton and Luke's relationship began to fray, Finn had time to lend a sympathetic ear. Calum suspected Finn was cheating, but he bought into the “golden couple” bullshit so Luke never crossed his mind. Calum was shocked and gutted when he walked in on the two of them one afternoon. Finn was supposed to be out of town, and Calum popped by to check on his dogs. The sound of sex greeted him when he opened the door and he should have left right then. His curiosity got the better of him, and he walked towards the bedroom. Their moans masked the sound of his boots as someone had a very loud orgasm. Calum opened the door as they were falling away from each other. He walked in to find them panting for breath, sweaty and beautiful with the afterglow. Luke panicked and tried to hide himself, but Finn didn't flinch. 

"Well, I guess you know now," he said, smirking as his green eyes met Calum's. "If you're down for it, we've been talking about trying a third. You can top us both if you want." He shrugged and Calum physically felt the spell break. Looking back, he knew Finn broke his ego more than his heart. He'd been humiliated when it all came out, but he knew the affair had been worse for Ashton. He could tell Ashton was still damaged but definitely not broken. Wouldn't mind letting him break me, Calum thought, his mind wandering back to that unbuttoned pink shirt, Ashton's chest and neck begging to be marked up. I bet he likes it rough. 

Calum caught himself daydreaming again and blinked the half-filled word document back into focus. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a crush on someone, and he felt ridiculous. How am I gonna get through this interview?  It didn't help that Hima kept teasing him about it being a date. Calum's last date, with Nick the lawyer, had been a disaster. He'd ended up leaving after Nick disappeared on another phone call.

The truth was, he was excited about this interview and wished it really was a date. He'd scheduled a quick haircut and shave in the morning and carefully picked out an outfit. He figured his short-sleeve, red button-up paired with a black tank underneath would show off his arms while helping to hide his tummy pudge. He rubbed his stomach, still poking out from the leftover Indian food he'd finished off an hour ago, before letting his hand wander down and brushing his fingers across his cock and feeling it twitch in his basketball shorts. He wondered what Ashton would be wearing tomorrow. He pictured Ashton at the club, the ripped black jeans and the pink shirt unbuttoned enough to tease him. His dick twitched in his hand, waking up and demanding attention. 

****

Ashton gasped and almost dropped his phone at the sight of Hima standing in the break room in nothing but her bra and panties. He hadn't recovered from that shock when a male figure crawled into the frame. It took Ashton several seconds to realize the man was nude and covered in tattoos. The tattoos rang a bell, and he realized he was looking at Dakota, model/actor, Maisie's nephew, and a server at Anne Marie's. Dakota was a dark, brooding pretty boy with a perfect pink pout and tousled dark curls that he was always brushing out of his eyes. He was great at his job, but other than that he'd made no impression on Ashton, until now. Ashton watched the younger man on his knees in front of Hima as he sucked on her bright pink cock. What the fuck is happening?

Ashton blinked at his screen, still processing everything when Dakota stood up and bent over the table. Hima lined up behind him and thrust her hips against his ass. Ashton gulped for air and felt beads of sweat break out on his upper lip. He watched for a minute, hypnotized by Dakota writhing in pleasure, his black curls bouncing with every stroke, shoulders hunching over as he gripped the table. Ashton's mind flashed to Calum and what it would look like to have him bent over like that. He realized his dick was getting hard and quickly closed the app, feeling embarrassed for invading her privacy. He fumbled getting his phone into his pocket and accidentally skipped to the next song. "Anytime, Any Place," by Janet Jackson filled the room.  He laughed to himself at the sexy song and took another sip of wine. 

****

Calum squeezed himself through his clothes. He vaguely remembered Finn telling him Ashton was rumored to have a massive cock. He groaned at the thought of Ashton's hazel eyes looking down at him while he was on his knees. He imagined Ashton's cock brushing against his lips, teasing both of them. Calum groaned and gave up any pretense of trying to work. He stood up too quickly and knocked his chair over causing Brutus to wake from a dead sleep and start barking his head off. 

"It's ok, boy," Calum assured him, making sure he laid back down before going into his bedroom and shutting the door. Moments later he was stripped down to his boxers and shirt digging through his top dresser drawer until he found the small bag hiding under his socks. He pulled a bottle of lube and a small silicone sleeve out of the bag and walked back to the bed. He peeled off his shirt, kicked off his underwear and laid on his back on the bed. His cock was flat against his stomach, and as Calum reached for it he wondered what Ashton was doing right now.

****

Ashton felt the plug slip into his ass and shivered at the chill of the stainless steel. He wiped his hands off on a towel and walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. The music was still playing. Janet's silky smooth voice gave way to Beyonce’s sultry vocals

Baby put your arms around me

Tell me I'm a problem

He walked back into his bedroom, feeling delicious shivers from the pressure on his prostate as he moved. The city lights illuminated the room from the open blinds on the balcony. 

Stop acting so scared, just do what I tell

First go through my legs, go back on your head

And whatever you want, yeah baby I'll bet it comes true

He reached down and squeezed his dick, rubbing his thumb over the tip down to the sensitive underside of the ridge. Pulling the shaft down and away from his body, pushing almost to the point of pain before easing up and giving it a nice slow stroke. He repeated the motion, each time pulling a little harder, edging a little closer to making it hurt, each time when he pulled back the relief was more intense. His fantasies were new visions: dark eyes and black curls still coming into focus in his mind's eye. He squeezed his muscles around the plug as he tapped the remote on the table next to him. The plug began to vibrate on the lowest speed and Ashton hissed at the sensation. He wondered if he'd let Calum fuck him.  Ashton didn't bottom very often. Luke didn't like to do the work, rarely agreed to switch up and whined whenever he did.  Calum looked like he could give as well as he got. 

***

Calum grunted as he pushed his cock, slick and shiny with lube, into the sleeve. His hips jerked upwards into the air as the countless smooth nubby fingers lining the inside of the toy closed around his swollen shaft, gripping and massaging the taut skin with every stroke. He screwed his eyes shut picturing Ashton on his back with his knees pulled up to his chest as he begged for him. Calum bit his lip to stifle a moan, slowing down his speed, not wanting to cum too fast. Hima told him Ashton called himself a “bendy boy” and had a strict yoga routine which just sent Calum's mind spinning, picturing trying different positions until Ashton was screaming for him. Calum moved his hand away, leaving the toy. The scenario in his mind began to switch up. The only thing Calum could think of hotter than fucking Ashton was getting railed by his massive cock. 

****

The combed cotton, high-thread-count pillowcase felt velvety soft and air-conditioned chilled when he bunched the pillow in his fists as he thrust his hips, burying his shaft in the soft folds. It felt amazing but was cold comfort when he was craving Calum's body heat. He turned the remote up a notch and adjusted the settings; a pulse pattern began throbbing against his core. He squeezed down on his dick even harder. He could feel the delicate feathers snapping under his fingers, but he didn't care. Ashton ached for release, longing to have Calum in his bed tonight. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive as his orgasm began to build. His hips pumped faster trying to match the pulsing rhythm inside him. He wanted Calum, with a craving he’d never felt before. Something in those dark eyes challenged Ashton. There was something about this mysterious reporter that he needed to discover. He was getting closer with every stroke, the fantasy switching to pounding Calum into the mattress, seeing how well he could throw it back. The image was too much and he shuddered, cursing out loud as his climax hit. His hips stuttered and his legs wobbled, forcing him to his knees. The vibrator extended his orgasm, milking him drop by drop as he whimpered and fumbled for the remote. When he finally turned it off, he rolled onto his back and tried to catch his breath, thankful he'd bought a nice fluffy rug to put next to his bed. .  

****

Calum flipped over onto his stomach, grinding down with his hips, the sleeve moving with the friction. He wondered if Ashton was vanilla or if he could get into Calum's slight pain kink. He'd looked for Ashton on FetLife to no avail, but he was fairly sure he'd found Hima so that was a surprise. Calum reached up and tugged his nipple hard as his hips rocked slowly. There was a power to Ashton. He had a dominant side which Calum had clearly seen in his dynamic with Luke, despite Ashton being smaller in size. Calum wanted to see how he'd take charge because he wasn't soft like Luke, but he had no doubt Ashton could handle him. Calum raised himself up on his forearms, pumping his hips furiously. He thought about those arms wrapped around his neck, his teeth grazing Ashton's blood moon tattoos as he bent Cal over and took him hard and fast. He whimpered, biting the pillow, his rhythm starting to stutter as he thought about Ashton looking up at him, eyes wide with Calum's hand at his throat as they reached their high together. Calum was just at the edge when he quickly rolled over, removing the toy and ruining his orgasm. He gasped, his whole body shaking as his release spilled onto his belly. After a moment he reached down, using the sleeve to tease the tip through the aftershocks until it became too sensitive to touch. He was hungry again, so he grabbed a Kleenex and wiped himself off as best he could before walking, still naked, back through his house to turn on the oven. Pizza was always a good snack after sex, and he had an article to work on.

@sublimehood​​ @tea4sykes​​ @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ @scribblesos​​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​​ @wildmichaelflower​​ @castaway-cashton​​ @damselindistressanu​​ @notinthesameguey​​ @cashtonasfuck​ @irwinkitten​ @mermaidcashton​​ @malumsmermaid​​

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Appealing To Better Judgment (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: In the aftermath of the attack, Rus has some time to himself.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

~~*~~

Read ‘Appealing To Better Judgment’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It could more properly be called brunch than breakfast, Edge supposed, when the meal was riding on the border of noon, even if he’d started cooking closer to dawn.

That was when he’d left Rus and Red alone in their wide bed, too agitated to sleep any longer and not needing as much rest as they did besides. Edge dressed in silence, coming out to the kitchen. He put on his apron without even a recipe in mind and simply started cooking, infusing each dish with as much healing magic as it could take.

None of them had eaten since yesterday morning and Edge suspected when Rus woke, he’d need food and healing both, as much as Edge could coax into him.

Edge made plenty, choosing both sweet and savory. Red would eat anything that was put in front of him and Edge wasn’t sure what Rus might want so it was best to be prepared. Batter for waffles was chilling in the refrigerator and a hearty soup made with homemade noodles simmered on the back of the stove. Hot rice was waiting in the cooker, needing only a raw egg vigorously stirred into it until the grains were glossy and a splash of soy sauce.

To finish was a plate of small fluffy cakes ready to be drizzled with honey, each topping with a variety of fresh fruit. All of it delectable, an attempt to temper nutrition with treats that might entice Rus when his appetite might be lagging. He needed to eat but his desire for food sometimes ebbed after a long possession, leaving him picking listlessly at his plate.

That was something Edge was trying to avoid today by offering plenty of options. What Rus needed was plenty of food, rich with healing magic and not only Rus. Red would be worn out yet from the expending so much magic yesterday in the attack and then spending the night dealing with Rus’s helpless demands. Edge already ate, shoring up his own reserves for anything that might be required of him; food, protection, comfort, even more sex.

He couldn’t keep the world outside away forever, but he could give them this.

There was no way to tell how Rus would be when he woke. Edge didn’t have a measure for anything like the last day. In his experience, the Judge only manifested fully for a Judgement. Truthfully, Edge did not know what standards needed met to call for a one, but couldn’t be as simple as trying to murder the vessel or else other Judges would have done the same during past assassination attempts. Not every crime called for a Judgement and even with all Edge’s training and time as Chosen, he’d never heard of a Judgement happening outside the hall, whether it was in New Home or the modified corner office in the Embassy

He’d certainly never heard of the Judge fucking their Chosen. None of his teachings indicated that would even be a possibility and the memory of being pressed against the elevator wall, of the Judge staring at him, through him, their gaze plunging into the depths of his soul, the surge of power as he was taken—

Edge shook the memory away, focusing on giving the simmering soup a stir. It was over and right now Rus needed him just as much as he had the night before, if for very different reasons. Now was the time for Rus to recover and regain his physical strength before the Judge needed to manifest again. Edge was far less worried about being fucked against a wall than he was at Rus’s appearance early this morning. Even asleep he’d seemed fragile, his pale bones chalky rather than luminescent in the darkness of their room and his physical energy drained even as his magic levels slowly rose yet again.

An unexpected knock at their door made Edge’s own magic flare unconsciously. Yesterday’s attack left his instincts raw and ready, but there were passing few Monsters who had the clearance to even exit the elevator at their floor, much less make it through all the security Checkpoints

A glance at the cameras showed the Queen waiting, her own guards standing a fair distance back. Unacceptable; he should have had warning that they were approaching long before they ever made it to the door. That was a discussion to have with Red when he awoke.

That did not change the fact that she was here and there were very few reasons she might come directly to their door. Almost, Edge wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to stamp his foot like a child and refuse to open to her. Rus wasn’t ready, he was exhausted, he needed his rest and another manifestation right now might—

But Rus knew what was expected of him; he’d made his vows and so had Edge. He wouldn’t thank Edge for keeping Toriel away, would likely be furious with him for overstepping. Rus could not be held back when he didn’t wish it and neither could the Judge.

It was a poor satire, Edge supposed, that after spending most of his life eager to join the guard, to protect the Judge and King, that he would be here now, wishing in the privacy of his own thoughts for a chance to steal Rus away, to keep him from anyone but Red and himself. Ridiculous, unworthy thoughts for any guard, much less a Chosen. Even if there were a way for him to secret Rus out of the building, his love would never agree to go with him and neither would Red. His brother would likely be deeply disgusted at the very idea of it.

Edge couldn’t steal Rus away, couldn’t selfishly keep Rus for him and Red alone. He couldn’t.

All he could do was open the door.

Edge bowed to the Queen even as he kept a wary eye on her entourage. “Can I help you, your Highness?”

Her smile was gentle, wry, and Toriel could not read a Monster’s soul, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t tell what was on one’s mind. “Good morning. I’m not here about a Judgement, I only wanted to speak with you about yesterday, Edge.”

Edge did not allow even a flicker of his relief to show on his face. “Come in, your Highness.”

Her team made no attempt to follow as she stepped over the threshold and the moment the door was closed, she asked without preamble, “How is Rus?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Edge said. He headed back to the kitchen to make sure nothing would burn without his attention, gesturing the Queen to their sitting area. “I can’t begin to conjecture about his state of mind, but his body is exhausted.”

Toriel nodded. “I won’t ask you to wake him,” she sighed heavily and sat. The sofas were large enough even for her bulk and Edge deliberately did not think of having Rus lovely and naked in his lap not two days ago in the very spot she chose. “I’m quite sure he needs all the rest he can get.”

“I would agree.” Edge reached for the kettle. “Would you like some tea, your Highness?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

It was unexpected and Edge only hesitated briefly, "We do." His brother kept a small stash of liquor for the rare indulgence. Rus never drank, saying that his head whirled enough. He did occasionally steal a sip from Red’s glass, saying he missed it sometimes, his days of overindulgence from Before.

Edge dug the bottle out from one of the cabinets, bringing it and a pair of glasses to the coffee table. Toriel took the bottle, pouring out a splash of the dark brown liquid into both without so much as examining the label. She tossed it back, grimacing, then poured herself another. “Two of the guard are dead,” she said. “The healers are still working on another. He may yet survive, if the Angel wills it.” She looked up from her glass. “Will you tell him?

“If he asks.” And if he didn’t, Edge would hold that information until he dusted.

She nodded wearily. “They’re getting bolder.”

“Yes.” This was the third attack in as many months and the closest yet to Rus. The guard was spread thin and their ranks might well be compromised. It was incredibly frustrating and even more humiliating to come to the surface world and discover that the danger was not from the Humans but from their own kind.

Curious that while not all of the dissidents from the previous attacks died in the attempt, none of them had been Judged. The Queen could call for a Judgement on anyone, it was her right, and Edge wondered briefly why she hadn’t. She’d not asked for the Judge for those who initiated the last attack and instead called for their execution immediately after what Edge could only assume was a very thorough interrogation. Edge also hadn’t been called for, but his brother had, and the night after his return, Red spent an inordinate amount of time between Rus’s thighs, riding him until he was hoarse from pleading and Red’s shoulder blades were a mess of fine scratches from Rus scrabbling to hold on.

Toriel took another swallow from her glass, staring into the depths as she said, softly, “I must confess, I would have given almost anything for Rus to not have been Chosen as Judge. To be honest, I would never have expected it to be him, not after his brother.” She swirled the remaining liquor in her glass. “It’s so uncommon for more than one member of a family to be Chosen, but here was Rus and then you and your brother came right after.” She looked up, meeting Edge’s gaze pensively. “There was always a preference for skeletons in both Judges and Guards. Your kind is strong and there are so few of you now. Perhaps with your numbers so low, there were few options.”

Her regard made Edge shift uncomfortably. He had no desire for the Queen’s confidence outside of how it affected Rus. Skeleton Monsters were few, it was true, and fewer still who could be in the guard. “Speaking of skeletons, how is Blue?”

If Toriel had an issue with the subject change, she didn’t show it. “He’s doing well,” Toriel said, “all things considered. He has a house of his own now in the Refuge with the others who don’t want to live in Ebott proper. Since he’s left the guard, he’s taken up gardening. His flowers are quite lovely.”

"Rus misses him." Edge only knew Blue only by reputation, a former guard and Chosen. He’d survived the coup, but not unscathed. Edge saw him once in the direct aftermath of it all, when he came into the throne room with his unit to cough on the dust still heavy in the air. Blue was one of the few still alive, or at least what was left of him.

Rus spoke of him, not often, but when he did it was always with a certain desperate longing that Edge understood all too well. When Red joined the guard, he’d been alone for close to two years before being able to join himself and then in only a few short months, he’d been Chosen alongside him. He and his brother would never be apart in life again. Unlike Rus and Blue.

“I know,” Toriel said. Her gaze was very nearly admonishing, whether it was for that comment or simply asking about Blue at all. “But a former Chosen can’t be reunited with the current Judge, you know that.”

“I do,” Edge said stiffly, resisting the urge to snarl that he hardly needed a lecture on etiquette from her. He abided by the laws of the Chosen daily, from the moment he woke until the time he drew Rus back into their shared bed at night, no matter how he felt about them.

She went on, obliviously, “Rus should take comfort in the fact Blue survived at all. None of the others did, including the Judge themselves.”

That felt entirely too much like a scolding, making Edge bristle. Rus did take comfort in it, but he should be allowed to miss his fucking brother. He’d lost him once to the guard and then again when he himself was chosen as Judge. In two years, the only and last time Rus saw his brother was in the hospital before he regained consciousness. By the next day, the last host succumbed to their injuries and Rus woke in the morning an entirely different person than the one who’d lain down for what he thought was only a night’s sleep.

Something of his irritation must have shown on his face. Toriel’s expression softened, “I’m sorry if that seems cold, my memory of the event is not a pleasant one, particularly with the ripples of the repercussions are still effecting us.”

That was undeniably true. Some still blame the Judge for betraying Asgore, dissidents who thought that war with the Humans was the only path and that Toriel was a traitor to the crown.

They were fools, all of them. They were the true traitors, not to the crown, but to the Angel herself. The true loyalty of the Judge was to the Angel and the Maker, not any ruler, and if They chose Toriel as their leader, then she was the rightful heir to the throne. Those Monsters, those so-called Acolytes of Asgore were the ones who strayed from the path and Edge would see them all as dust before they could lay a finger on the hem of Rus’s robes.

That was a promise he made to the Angel and to himself, sworn on his own soul.

Toriel heaved herself to her feet, setting her empty glass next to the bottle. “I doubt the warning is necessary, but you and your brother should have a care the next few weeks. Things will get worse before they’re better, I think. I can feel it in my soul.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Edge said crisply. He started for the door even before she did, more than ready for her to leave their home. Their sanctuary, such as it was.

There was a certain sadness to her smile, but she obeyed his unspoken demand and followed him to the door. “Let him know I stopped by?” she asked, quietly. “I miss my friend.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and he would. But perhaps tomorrow, once Rus was more himself and no other.

He secured the door behind her, watching on the security feed until she and her entourage made their way back to the elevators. Then he walked back up the table to pick up the other glass and swallowed it down. The burn of expensive whiskey was no different to him than cheap moonshine, both were equally foul, but he needed something to steady his agitated nerves.

“is she gone?”

Edge turned around to find Rus peeked out from around the corner to the hallway that led to their bedroom, all wide eye lights and worry. The sight of him, healthy and alive, was more settling then any liquor could possibly be.

“Yes,” Edge said gently, “It’s safe.” He held out a hand to his love, even as he scolded lightly, “You should still be sleeping.”

Rus slipped around the corner and Edge sighed in fond irritation to see he was in his bare feet on the cold floor. His feet weren’t the only part of him bare, he was only wearing one of Edge’s button-ups, shamelessly hanging open overtop his bones and managing to be simultaneously too big for his shoulders and too small for his height. The hem skirted around his pelvis tantalizingly, alternatively baring and concealing. Edge never left his clothes on the floor which meant Rus had to bypass his own clothing to get it from the closet. Comfort clothes, Rus told him once, wearing Edge’s clothes felt like being held in his arms. That and Rus knew that Edge liked to see him in them, deliberately showing off both his nakedness and Edge’s claim to him like the brat that he was.

He caught Rus around the hips and dragged him down onto one of the sofas, the one Toriel hadn’t been sitting on. Rus snuggled in happily, drawing up his legs as he curled up against Edge.

“couldn’t sleep anymore,” Rus admitted. “red is taking up the whole bed. think he grows overnight, like one of those damn chia pets.”

“He does spread out an incredible amount for how short he is,” Edge agreed. Better to let Red sleep. Rus was often very needy after a manifestation and Red would need all the energy he could get. “How long were you standing there?”

Rus grimaced, fleeting shame crossing his face. "long enough. sorry i didn't come out sooner."

Edge only pressed a light kiss against the slight nodule of his nasal ridge, rubbing a gentle hand up the length of Rus’s spine. He could feel every intricate joint through the thin layer of linen. "It's my duty to protect you from all things, even nosy friends."

A sniff of Rus’s jawline carried with it a soapy clean scent instead of sleep-sweat. Rus was fresh from the shower, and Edge frowned inwardly, discretely checking him. His magic level was stable which meant that unless he'd persuaded Red into some hasty activity he'd likely masturbated in the shower. Not that Edge had a problem with that; he even enjoyed watching if Rus was in one of his fey mood, his own desire a burning flame as Rus taunted them, shuddering from one orgasm to the next while refusing them a chance to touch.

But Edge suspected it wasn't a desire for personal attention that drove Rus to it and more his altruistic nature, and that was more than a little frustrating. It wasn’t Rus’s duty to worry about them, no matter how warming it was. He’d thought them long past the point of Rus hiding his needs.

No matter. Rus was here now and if he needed anything else today, Edge was more than capable of serving.

Until then there were other needs that should be addressed. “You should eat.”

For blessed once, Rus nodded agreeably, “okay, edgelord, what’ve you got for me?”

Much as it pained him to pull away, Edge drew from Rus’s hold and settled for shaking out a blanket to wrap around his slender shoulders. “Hold on and I’ll bring a tray.”

It was the work of moments to take out the waffle batter and pour a serving into the waiting iron. He ladled out a bowl of the soup as he waited for the waffle to cook, adding a small plate of the cakes after drizzling them with honey as golden as Rus’s magic, though not as sweet and that was something he told Rus often to see that same shade bloom in his cheek bones like wildflowers. The rice he left for now; that was more of Red’s preference. The waffle was added to the plate still steaming hot, doused thoroughly in syrup and a dollop of whipped butter melting into the crevices.

Rus stared as he carried the heavy tray over to the coffee table, laughing nervously, “that looks great, babe, but how hungry do you think i am?”

“What I think is that if you eat even two bites from each dish, I will be happy,” Edge retorted. He nudged the whiskey bottle aside and set the tray in front of Rus.

“i do like making you happy,” Rus murmured. He picked up a fork and it hovered over the plates indecisively. Then it sagged without touching a thing, Rus glancing up at Edge. “um. could you maybe…will you hold me while i eat?”

After all this time, it still stung that Rus was afraid to ask for what he needed. But those doubts weren’t for Edge, he knew, and Rus was always more uncertain after a long night of needing to be fucked, so wary of crossing a line that for Edge simply did not exist. The irony of someone like Rus being Chosen as the Judge always made Edge wonder sourly about the divine sense of humor. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rus’s skull, breathing in his sweetness as he murmured, “Of course.”

Edge moved to sit behind Rus, his legs on either side of him, pulling him back against his chest even as he urged Rus to scoot forward, closer to the filled plates. That empty fork finally settled on the waffle, cutting through the crisp exterior to the softness within, revealing a smear of melting chocolate chips.

It took three bites before Rus offered one to Edge, catching a dribble of buttery syrup with the tip of his tongue as he gestured with the fork at Edge. “y’wanna bite?”

Hiding his distaste, Edge leaned in and carefully took the syrup-soaked bite, trying not to gag as his formed tongue cramped at the overwhelming sweetness. In his arms, Rus quivered in poorly disguised laughter that turned into a squeal as Edge poked his fingers into Rus’s ribs, squirming them ticklishly.

“You are taking advantage of my giving nature,” Edge growled teasingly, then hugged him close, "How is your head?”

“bet’r,” Rus swallowed around his current mouthful. “better. takes a little while for it to all sink in. two manifestations in one week leaves me jittery, i guess.”

"That's one way of putting it."

Rus pushed the waffles aside and picked up a spoon. He stirred the soup, noodles and vegetables rising to the surface, but he didn’t take a bite. “i’m starting to remember more,” Rus admitted softly. “yesterday, sans came out. while they were…” Rus’s voice faltered briefly then firmed, “while they were fucking red.”

There was no point in denying it. Edge tightened his arms around Rus. “Yes.”

He nodded a little, his head lowered as he whispered, “is red…do you think he's okay?”

“He’s fine, love.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Whatever emotions Red felt from that manifestation, it hadn’t shown in the aftermath and his brother was vanishingly unlikely to allow it to affect him, either in his treatment of Rus or his duties. That was as close to fine as any of them could ask.

Rus swallowed hard, his voice as soft as a confession, “i didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”

An unpleasant thought occurred, and Edge asked it, baldly, “Are you worrying he doesn’t love you? Because if so—"

Rus shifted, turning in Edge’s arms and his expression was of such aghast surprise that it made Edge weak with relief. “no, of course not. that’s…no.” Rus said, firmly. “i might have sans's essence, but i know red loves me." He sighed, moving to rest his head against Edge’s chest, surely to keep from having to look at him. "but. red did join the guard hoping to get chosen by sans, i know that. he would have, too, if there'd been time. sans liked variety, he picked new chosen all the time, even my own brother—”

He choked, faltering, and Edge only pulled him closer, urging him on silently, “is it wrong that i’m glad he wasn't?” Rus asked. His voice was achingly timid. “if he was sans's chosen, then he couldn’t be mine. i know it’s selfish—"

“No,” Edge soothed. He cupped Rus’s skull in his bare hand, careful to keep his sharpened fingertips from grazing the pristine bone. “No, it’s not selfish, not at all. It only means you love him, the same as he and I love you.”

The very idea of not having Red with them was despicable, horrifying. To Edge’s mind, Sans had plenty of Chosen during his tenure. Rus only Chose two and wanted no other and for that, Edge felt only a wealth of gratitude. The thought that a stranger might have been Chosen along with him instead of Red, a stranger who would be not only allowed but required to touch Rus’s delicate bones, to have their mouth on him, tasting his sweetness, to fuck him and listen as he begged. Edge would have been forced to endure it, they both would.

They sat in silence and Edge slipped a hand beneath Rus’s shirt, petting his bare bones soothingly, seeking only to comfort and not entice. In slow increments Rus relaxed against him, settling against him more comfortably and Edge was tempted to leave things as they were. He could urge Rus back to his plate, cajole and bully a few more bites into him and then perhaps coax him into another nap.

Tempting, but there was a question that needed asking and if Edge didn’t bring it up now, it would be all the easier to let it slide and never ask it at all. And it needed asked, if only for his own soul. Edge closed his sockets, tasting regret as he asked, “Rus, this isn't the first attack we've stopped. But it's the first time the Judge surfaced during one. Why this time, why now? Do you know?"

Immediately, Rus said, “they were going to hurt you and red.”

That was not the answer Edge wanted and it was the one he dreaded most. “Our duty is to protect you, not the other way around.”

“that’s your opinion.” Rus said sullenly. He drew back enough to look Edge in the face, all hostile glares. There was a stirring in the air, like static dancing over them, prickling at their bones and glinting in Rus’s eye lights. “you’re Chosen for us, like so many others, and yet,” Rus voice dropped faintly into a strange echoing whisper, "we've Chosen so many and none of Them ever made Us Feel as you Two Do. In A Thousand Years, None Of Them Ever Loved Us So Deeply In Return."

Rus’s pale eye lights flickered, gleaming indescribably brighter. Then he blinked, his gaze clearing. He glanced around, confused, "i'm sorry, what was i saying?"

"Nothing, love," Edge said. Shaken as he was, he didn’t allow any of it in his voice, saying only, “Come on now, eat up for me.”

Rus seemed doubtful but didn’t press. He managed a few bites of soup and half of one of the cakes before pushing the tray away with a sigh. It was more than Edge hoped for and when he Checked Rus, his HP was steady. He didn’t need the Check to know Rus’s magic levels were rising, Edge could smell it, heavy in the air, that syrupy thickness sweeter than any cakes.

Physically Rus was exhausted, but his magic continued building up relentlessly and it wouldn’t wait for a nap before needing relieved.

Rus knew it as well, sighing impatiently. "all i wanted was to hold you.”

"I know," Edge soothed. He kept his touch light, fingertips tracing the glossy smoothness of ribs. "It'll be all right, love, your magic is always more lively after a manifestation. In a day or two, it will be settled. You know that.” There was another unmentioned benefit. If nothing else, sex also kept Rus’s thoughts from wandering, sifting through memories he didn't need to look at, like picking at an irritating scab. It was difficult to fret when one was hazed with ecstasy and that was a fact.

Not that Rus seemed in any position to appreciate that. He mumbled out a subdued, “yeah.” Pulled out of Edge’s arms to sit in the corner of the sofa, spreading his bare femurs and summoning his cunt. The glistening lips were puffy and swollen, recently used and poorly at that.

Edge frowned inwardly but chose not to call Rus on it. Not now, when his emotions were teetering like a cup on a table ledge, ready to topple and pour his melancholy over them all.

Instead, he ducked his head and ran his tongue gently along the delicate slit. He did not miss Rus’s flinch despite his care. Rus was sore then and that right there was Edge’s issue with him taking care of himself. Rus could be too rough on his own, trying to get it over with even though some things shouldn’t be rushed

Some day they were going to spend some quality time together with Edge directing him, but not now. For now, his magic needed relieved without causing his love any more pain.

Edge considered, rubbing his thumbs down the smooth bone that ran along the insides of Rus’s femurs. “Would you be comfortable forming your cock?”

Rus startled, his sockets widening briefly, then he cringed into himself and nodded. That was the opposite of what Edge wished to see and he crawled up the length of Rus body to kiss him gently, drawing him back out before he told Rus, "No is a complete answer, love, you don't have to.”

His chin wobbled, but Rus’s nod was firm, "yeah, no, i can. but i don't want to—” He gestured awkwardly, frustrated as he stumbled over the words that he couldn’t seem to form. That was all right, Edge didn’t need him to say it.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me," Edge told him quietly.

Rus nodded shakily. He closed his sockets, face tightening as he struggled to exchange his pussy for his cock. The transformation was a difficult one, sweat forming on Rus’s skull, trickling down, and almost, Edge asked him to stop, ready to make do with what they had.

But finally Rus’s cock coalesced into existence at his pubic mound. Edge stared, fascinated. It had been inside him, but he'd never seen it. Smaller than his imaginings, the shaft had seemed enormous while the Judge was fucking him, stretching his walls with agonizing pleasure. Instead, this cock was long and slender, much like Rus himself, the same honey-tinted ectoflesh as his pussy. It curved up towards Rus’s abdominal cavity, tautly hard beneath his hand as Edge reached out to curl his fingers around it. Rus groaned as Edge gave it a light stroke, moving to gently push back the foreskin and reveal the rounded head, fondling the sensitive ridge beneath it. Whatever Rus’s uncertainties, his cock knew what it wanted. Golden magic beaded at the tip, glossy wet and begging to be licked away.

Edge’s mouth watered, eager to taste, but he swallowed the pseudosaliva away, looking up into Rus’s lovely, flushed face as he asked, "Is this all right?"

He waited only long enough for Rus to give a shaky nod and then fell hungrily upon him.

The taste was different than Rus’s pussy, unexpectedly potent and the sweetness was tainted with an underlying bitterness. It was delicious and Edge groaned around the length filling his mouth, working his tongue against the shaft, seeking more.

It had been a long time since he’d done this, not since his training days back in the barracks. Back then this had been nothing more than another exercise, a chore that might be required of him if he were ever Chosen and he’d endured learning it the same as he did the morning drills.

For Rus, he wanted nothing more than to overwhelm him with pleasure, a chance to show to him that this could be as good as being fucked. Those long-ago lessons came back to him in blurts of memory coupled with common sense. To be cautious of his jaggedly sharp teeth, that didn’t change no matter what equipment Edge went down on. Making sure to keep the heated, plush magic of his mouth wet and slippery to allow the shaft to slide easily. Bobbing his head in slow, luxurious movements, winding his tongue around the length and swallowing deeply to let the head of the shaft bump chokingly deep into his throat.

Above him, Rus cried out, shrill and shocked, and way he moved, his fingers scrabbling over Edge’s skull, suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Reluctantly, Edge pulled off, licking the lingering sticky-sweetness from his teeth as he said, "Love, we don't need to—"

"i know,” Rus panted. His entire face was glowing with a hectic flush, his eye lights bright and wild. His slim hands fluttered indecisively, phalanges clicking softly together, “i know, don’t stop, keep going, please!"

Instead, Edge ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the shaft, watching that light touch crackle in Rus’s eye lights. Rus’s hands fisted, trembling against the sofa cushion as he struggled not to touch when Edge did it again, lapping away the renewed surge of sweetly-bitter fluid leaking from the tip. Edge let his breath touch that wet skin, damp and hot, as he murmured solicitously, “Would it be better if I held you down?”

It was an answer he already knew. Rus enjoyed being tied up well enough but for one of them to hold him down nearly sent him into a frenzy, sputtering out wordless cries as he struggled and begged. His love would never admit it in so many words, he was usually too mortified to even ask for it, but he and Red drew the truth from him over time with mouths and hands. Rus didn’t want to give up his control, he wanted it to be taken, and that his cock pulsed at the mere mention of being held down was a fair sign that still held true.

Edge only let his mouth curve smugly as Rus looked away, his blush deepened to a true orange as he muttered, “shut up.”

“Love, I didn’t say a word.”

And he didn’t, only took hold of Rus’s wrists and pinned them firmly to either side of him on the sofa cushions. Rus struggled briefly in his grip, trying fruitlessly to twist free and when he couldn’t, he sank back, panting, each word couched in a whine as he pleaded, “please, c’mon, i can’t…i need it, please!”

Through the open shirt, his soul was manifesting, already slick with thick silvery fluid, fat droplets on the verge of falling. His magic levels were getting painfully high then and Edge didn’t waste another moment, ducking his head and taking Rus’s cock in again deeply, sucking hard.

The shaft throbbed suddenly in his mouth, pulsing, and the abrupt spill of thick, hot seed at the back of his throat nearly made him choke. Edge struggled to swallow it down, taking Rus as deeply as he could, his nasal ridge pressed tight to his pubic bone. Rus was squirming and sobbing, fighting against Edge’s grip even as he came hotly down his throat. He whimpered out a feeble protest as Edge pulled off, only to let out a near scream as he lapped his way lower instead, following the smoothness of the ectoflesh back to find the tight pucker of his ass. He licked up the cleft and back down, pressed the narrow tip of his tongue against it, breaching that furled hole and forcing his slippery tongue in deep. It was so tight, clenching around the flexible length of his tongue, and for a moment Edge lost himself in it, muffling his own guttural cries into the generous curves of overheated ectoflesh, imagining that tightness around his own cock, thrusting inside and jerking Rus off with his other hand or better, Red sucking him off, his mouth tight around slender length of Rus’s shaft, grunting out his own satisfaction in deep gurgles as they gave their lover pleasure from both sides.

Beneath his eager mouth, Rus convulsed, his hips jerking so hard he nearly sent Edge to the floor and his bony knees clattering against the sides of Edge’s skull as he came again, crying out in desperate ecstasy.

By the time Edge reluctantly drew away, Rus was shivering with exhaustion, pulling weakly at Edge’s shirt. Edge let go of Rus’s wrists and followed that upward tug, but not before glimpsing the pretty bracelets of deep orange bruises he’d left behind to fuss over later.

“please, fuck me now,” Rus begged. Bright tears were streaming down his face and dripping down, swirling into the splatters of silver left by his leaking soul like creamer into coffee. “i want you inside me.”

His pussy all but snapped back into place, soaked and eager, the narrow passage clenching visibly, and Edge almost fell between his legs. His hands were shaking, need tangled with desperation as he took Rus’s mouth fiercely, shoving his tongue between his teeth to share his own dark, sweet taste. Edge reached down to fumble open his pants, guiding his cock between those swollen, drenched lips and started pushing in. Rus cried out, the sound lost within their kiss, his fingers digging into Edge’s shoulders through his shirt as Edge forced his cock deep, riding the slickness of his pussy and driving into Rus’s pliant body in a brutal rhythm.

Neither of them were going to last. Rus was nearly sobbing in his pleasure at each vicious thrust, squirming as he reached between them. Not for his clit as Edge first thought but into his own abdominal cavity and Edge strangled out a disgraceful sound as Rus squeezed his cock through the thin sheath of his own magic with both hands. There was no holding back after that, relentlessly driving into Rus’s pussy and grip as one, and every thrust came with a slick, obscene sound, matched by the desperate cries gurgling through Rus’s clenched teeth.

Edge’s grunt caught in his throat as he came, glottal and thick, and he watched greedily through narrowed sockets as his magic filled Rus, glistening crimson flowing inside of him, staining him with his claim. His sockets clenched shut without Edge’s permission, unable to bear the wracking pleasure of it as he shook and jerked, unbearable ecstasy shaking him to his very core.

He collapsed, sagging down on Rus even as he struggled to keep the bulk of his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing him into the cushions. Even so, Rus only clung to him, breathless beneath Edge’s weight while refusing to let him go.

His wits were still scattered to the four corners of the room when clapping from behind them, mockingly polite. “nice show, gonna have an encore?”

They turned as one to see Red leaned against the wall dressed only in his shorts. His joints were lit with deep scarlet, matching the burning of his eye lights and his grin was a slash across his face, wide and eager.

"You're late, brother,” Edge panted, struggling out from between Rus’s legs. The hitched sound Rus made as he withdrew sent a pulse of regretful guilt through his soul, but there was nothing for it. As he pulled out, crimson oozed from between Rus’s pussy lips, staining the sofa cushion beneath him that was already streaked orange and silver and Edge did not care. He rolled over to face his brother instead, asking with mocking sweetness, “Finally decided to wake up after I already wore him out?”

Red snorted. “ain’t a sinner or saint who could sleep through that racket and i ain’t either.” His crimson gaze moved over them greedily. “but he do look tired. trying to win a marathon on his belly?”

“i’m not that worn out,” Rus grumbled, the words belied by the way he struggled to sit up, his limbs wobbly and disobedient. “if you want to give it, i can take it.”

Red’s gaze dropped and Edge knew he was taking in those swollen pussy lips, like bruised petals surrounding a battered flower. He flicked an accusing glance at Edge who could only flush guiltily, but that annoyed gaze didn’t linger, went straight back to Rus as he said, smoothly, “honey love, you know i never like to turn down a chance to give it to you good—"

“your pillow talk could use some work, short stuff,” Rus snorted.

“i’ll work on it when we get some pillows out here,” Red blithely continued even as he prowled closer to the sofa. “anyway, love to nail you good, honey, but my magic ain’t quite up to it. i might be a little prick but i ain’t interested in using one.”

It was a reasonable excuse, one that Rus might even believe, particularly when Red lifted a hand, waggling his fingers teasingly. “mind if we take the scenic route?”

“any road trip with you is bound to be interesting,” Rus wriggled back into the cushions, dragging his own fingers across his spread femurs and smearing the colorful array of fluids across his lovely bones. “better get in the driver’s seat.”

Edge shifted back, easing away to sit in the other corner of the sofa, already anticipating a remarkably interesting show as Red crawled up onto the sofa.

Then he was clawing uneven holes into the cushions, a ragged, shocked cry escaping him because instead of joining Rus, Red swooped in to lick at Edge’s softened cock, his hot mouth startlingly gentle on the soft organ. It might even have been considered soothing if it weren't his brother's mouth on him. Edge jerked convulsively, unable to pull away and only able to lie there watching in sheer disbelief as his brother mouthed him. There was a brief moment of suction, the warning prickle of jagged teeth and then as quickly as he pounced, Red pulled away, licking away smears of honey-gold and red from his teeth with a lascivious tongue.

"sorry, bro,” Red purred, low and gravely as a stray tomcat. “you needed a little cleaning too. didn't want any of that honey to go to waste.”

Edge said nothing, staring speechlessly at his brother before his eye lights flicked to Rus who was watching wide sockets. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, shivering deeply and clenching his thighs together, bones rattling as he quivered, and a low cry hissed out between his newly clenched teeth.

“Did you just come?” Edge demanded in disbelief. If so, he was honestly impressed by it; to come untouched and not even on the heels of the last orgasm was delightfully needy, even considering what set Rus off.

Honey-gold color bloomed across Rus’s entire face like wildfire. He tried cover it with both his hands, but skeletal fingers were hardly a barrier. His joints were already lit with renewed arousal and he drew his knees together, but it didn’t hide the generous rush of golden dampness slicking his inner thighs.

Red's grin widened, tongue lolling eagerly out. "hm, looks like i better get to drivin'."

Edge only swallowed hard, sinking back to watch as his brother ran a gentle finger up softly bruised folds that were colorfully tinted with Edge’s come. Rus’s hands fell away from his face, revealing sockets sank to half-mast as he arched, stuttering out a ragged cry and if Edge ended up with his own hand back on his achingly hard cock, jerking himself off and coming in hot spurts into the cup of his own hand as he watched them together, he had no one to blame but himself for not joining them.

He sat there watching them, watched as Rus’s eye lights hazed in ecstasy, watched as Red’s tongue pushed between swollen pussy lips again and again, until he’d licked away all of Edge’s come and there was only the sticky gold slipping from Rus’s entrance in shining wet droplets. Edge watched as Rus’s magic finally dropped to acceptable levels and he sagged back, exhausted, all but clutching Red to his chest when he crawled up to lay tiredly next to Rus, the both of them falling trustingly into sleep with Edge’s gaze still upon them.

He only moved to cover them with a soft blanket, tucking it around their bare, damp bones and when Rus began to whimper in his sleep, trembling, Edge sat next to them, gently petting the delicate curve of Rus’s skull, whispering to him that it was all right, that he was safe.

Red slept on obliviously, even as Edge cupped his skull in his other hand, a hand on each of them. He kept his touch light, gentle, fighting off the urge to pull them both fiercely into his arms, to never let them go.

I would take you both away from here, if I could. An unwelcome, useless thought and Edge dismissed it ruthlessly. He was no traitor to the crown or to the Angel, he was Chosen and here was where he belonged, watching over them.

Keeping them safe, from anything at all.

-fin

Next Chapter

[annarellix]

Death at Beresford Hall  by Emma Davies  (The Adam and Eve Mystery Series #4)

Francesca Eve, chef, caterer, and baker extraordinaire, has never desired the limelight. But when she’s accepted onto the country’s favourite cooking competition, she can’t help but wonder – what would it be like to win? The one thing she’d never imagined, though, was sharing the kitchen with a killer…

When Francesca Eve arrives for the Christmas special of the country’s most popular baking competition, she knows she’s out of her depth. For not only is she there undercover, reluctantly investigating strange threats to Miranda Appleby, the famous presenter-come-chef, but she swiftly gets roped into competing herself when another contestant can’t cut the mustard and quits. Cooking may be bread and butter to Fran, but under the bright lights her cranberry sauce won’t set and her mince pies burn. When the real reason she’s there ends in total failure and Miranda is found with a cake slice through the heart - ‘lights, camera, cook’ becomes ‘lights, camera, murder…’ Miranda may have looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but looks can be deceiving… From her harassed PA to the rakish producer and even the disappointed contestants, everyone on set seemingly had reason enough to want to bump her off. But who would be nuts enough to cook Miranda’s goose in such an obvious way? As the police arrive to take over the investigation, Fran can’t help but continue her own lines of enquiry. She’s come to know the crew and contestants and can’t believe that any one of them would be guilty. But Fran must harden her heart to her new friends and focus her mind. Someone may have thought Miranda was justifiably given her just desserts, but what Fran uncovers takes things to a whole new tier. Can Fran uncover the truth before another death occurs, and before the spirit of Christmas (cake) is ruined forever?

Buy Link: https://geni.us/B0BD8WH7FFsocial

My Review: Fran and Adam are an unlikely couple of amateur sleuth but their differences and their skills make them a highly effective duo. They're so good that DCI Bradley asked them to investigate on some threat that Miranda Appleby, a  tv presenter. This is the start of the 4th instalment in this series and each one is better than the previous as there's always a variety of settings, type of people and different puzzles to solve. Miranda wasn't a very nice persone and I loved how Fran and Adam were able to discover the culprit investigating but always being realistic and entertaining at the same. This unlikely couple is well developed and likeable. Fran's social and culinary skills works well with Adam's technical and logical skill. This entertaining and compelling story kept hooked and guessing. It's full of unexpected turns and I read it in one evening as I couldn't put it down. I hope there's going to be a lot of other investigations, this one is highly recommended. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Bookouture for this arc, all opinions are mine

The Author After a varied career, Emma Davies once worked for a design studio where she was asked to provide a fun and humorous (and not necessarily true) anecdote for their website. She wrote the following: 'I am a bestselling novelist currently masquerading as a thirty something mother of three.' Well the job in the design studio didn't work out but she's now a forty something mother of three and is happy to report the rest of her dream came true. After many years as a finance manager she now writes full time, and is far happier playing with words than numbers. She lives with her husband, three children, and two guinea pigs in rural Shropshire where she writes in all the gaps in between real life. It's a county she adores, her love of its beautiful people and landscapes providing endless inspiration for her books, and in fact the only thing that would make Shropshire more idyllic is if it were by the sea.

Pop over to her website www.emmadaviesauthor.com where, amongst other things, you can read about her passion for Pringles and singing loudly in the car. You can also wave to her on twitter @EmDaviesAuthor or find her on Facebook (a little too often than is good for her).

Social Media Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/emmadaviesauthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/EmDaviesAuthor Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoremmadavies/ Website: www.emmadaviesauthor.com Bookouture Email Sign-up: https://www.bookouture.com/emma-davies